Sobriki's Knife
by Solard
Summary: COMPLETE! A Carter and Abby story. Nonfluff, definite romance. Only Chpt. 1 and 2 rated M. Stay away, kiddies! The rest is okay. Thank you to everyone who reads, enjoys and reviews.
1. Leads me to your door

He turned the key stealthily in the lock. Ever so quietly, he pushed the door with his knee; seemingly the only appendage left not holding something. "Whisp," the door sweep quietly announced his entry and he placed his bags gently on the carpet. He stood for a moment, temporarily lost. "Only two weeks passed and I've already forgotten my way around..." he muttered. Simultaneously drawn to and dreading the bedroom, where she slept, he slowly made his way. Hesitating just a little, he stopped in her (their?) doorway, to let his eyes adjust to the dusky room. He felt heavy, as if he stood there just a little longer he would root to the spot. Summoning his battered will, he propelled himself forward; like a thirsty man to a mirage. He knew this to be imagination. This hoped for reunion. She would be wounded, he felt that, deep in his gut. But he had the benefit of perspective; perspective wrought by truly harsh circumstance. And try, he must. Coming so close to death sharpened his focus. Made him see clearly for the first time in months, hell, years.  
  
Pushing away thoughts of Kisangani, he sat quietly on the bed. He looked down at her sleeping form, so peaceful. The contented look of deep slumber belied the turmoil he knew resided, always, just below the surface. Resisting the urge to bend and take a kiss while sleep rendered her helpless, he settled for pulling the errant sheet over her bare shoulder. "I've seen so much fear and brutality, Abby..." he whispered. "I left here... I left you, full of confusion and anger...I was so angry. At your brother, my mother, God... but mostly at you. I wanted to make someone hurt, as much as I was hurting." Intently he gazed into her face for some sign of wakefulness. Even and barely audible, her soft puffs of breath told him she remained undisturbed. "Now I know; I know that I have lived my life pleasantly unaware, Abby." He thought of the boy he tried to save and Luka's benevolent indulgence of his inconsequential machinations. The woman, dead of Aids, her head resting on her husband's shoulder, haunted him. Haunted his dreams, much as Abby used to haunt his every waking thought. And try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling of cold steel pressed into his forehead. "I had to go to hell to come back to life, Abby, and I can't... I won't forget..." Words fled from his mind; before he could form a thought, it was gone. "There is something I want to tell you, something I wish I could pass on to you, about what I, what I feel, in my chest, but I can't. Soft sobs shook his frame, taking him by surprise. Not wanting to lose his tenuous hold on this idea, this...something...he was trying to say, he continued speaking, his tone confessional, though the tightness in his throat strained his whisper. Lost in his thoughts, intent on undoing the knots that had jumbled his former life, Carter didn't notice Abby's breathing change. Didn't notice the slight movements signaling she was awake. Lying awake, holding her breath and listening.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"How long has he been here?" The thought came suddenly, almost physically jolting her. She came to herself almost as suddenly. Just in time to forcefully regulate her breathing. Like blocks tumbling, the flood of competing thoughts came fast, "thank god, he's alive. The bastard! Thinks he can just show up... How did he get in here... Oh, god, he's not hurt... He used his key! Why did he come here? I am going to... thank god he's okay..."  
  
"...I want to start fresh. Everything in my life, every aspect of it, was tearing me apart inside, Abby," his voice sounded tired, strained, to her, "including my relationship with y-"  
  
"Carter," her voice came out a croak, not the quiet whisper she was aiming for, "when'd you get back?"   
  
"Abby, you, uh... you startled me... I... I got back about an hour ago. I came straight here."  
  
"You mean, you, um, you just got back. From Africa?" She caught the slight glint in his eye, "I mean, you didn't go to your... you didn't stop by your house first?" She emphasized "your house" in an unmistakable way.   
  
"I... well, uh, yeah, came straight off the plane. I used my key. I wanted to see you..." Looking directly at him, she noticed the weariness in the droop of his shoulders, his posture, his words. She felt the faintest stirring of compassion, overriding her anger.  
  
"I'm glad you're okay... you didn't, when I didn't hear from you, I thought, I don't know -maybe I thought the worst..." Not knowing quite how to proceed, she let her words fade.  
  
"Abby. Hey, look at me." His voice sounded gentle, soothing. "I was in a war-torn country, not really any way to contact the outside world..." She inched closer to the edge of the bed, dropped her legs over the side. The skin on her legs tightened with rebellion at the cold.  
  
"Carter, I know, it's just -you left, we were barely speaking, I didn't know what to think."   
  
Standing, she brushed past him to reach her robe. He caught her in his arms and, before her mind could process the information, bent his lips gently to hers. The room was so cold, his lips so warm. The warmth spread to her cheeks, down her spine, igniting her thighs, sending shivers through her belly. She had kissed him plenty of times before. This was altogether different. This was embarking on dangerous. And she didn't want to be out of control. As his kiss grew more urgent, more purposeful, a thought began leading her senses back to the cold room.  
  
"Carter, I-" He was guiding her back to the bed, caressing her, silently pleading with his mouth, covering her in speechless prayers.   
  
"Shh, Abby, you don't have to talk..." Soft moans escaped her lips, even as her mind was all rebellion. "Not now," running his lips over her earlobe, "Not tonight," hooking his thumbs in the band of her panties, "Tomorrow, we talk..." gently collapsing on the bed, "Tonight, I need you, Abby... I just need to be with you..." 


	2. Awakenings

Chapter Two  
  
With every kiss, Carter felt himself drawing nearer... Nearer to Abby, to himself. His hand lightly trailed down her spine, fingers worshipping each delicate ridge. All the way to the soft, sensitive cleft of her behind. He felt her skin shudder at his touch. Felt the razor edge of raw emotion pierce his heart.   
  
"I love you, Abby... Oh, god, I love you so much..." The fury in his need to connect with this woman caused his body to involuntarily writhe and push. He wanted to bury muscles and sinew, heart and soul in the seductive embrace of her body. His hands touched every surface of this altar within his reach; mind numbed to all other stimuli save the rushing of blood, the lusty scent of her body aroused and his own long-dormant desire, awakened.  
  
Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, where only impulse and the faint echo of Bobby dwelt, he was aware that this was rebirth. Her warm body, laid bare and vulnerable, held the answers to his longing. "I won't leave you again..."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Abby's breath came in ragged gulps. Everything about this felt... strange. She wanted him; her every sense spoke plain truth. She had felt desire for him before... this wasn't the same. Before, her body responded with something almost akin to duty. But, Carter had long held sway over her loyalty. He was her friend. He had been so understanding; so supportive. When he revealed to her that he didn't want to be her "girlfriend," she felt the air sucked out of her chest. But to find that he wanted her... wanted to be with her, twisted her mind, threw her to the ground. He could have told her he purchased a polar ice cap in her honor and would be renaming it "Abby's Pole," and she couldn't have been more befuddled.   
  
As the astonishment wore off, he began to change before her eyes. He seemed taller. Had he always been that tall? His face... it began to... to bewitch her. Was that the right word? Her eyes sought his at odd moments... searching for... what? She didn't know. His eyes. She never noticed how deep, how veiled his eyes appeared. The keepers of secrets as yet untold. She wanted to know those secrets. Wanted to draw them out of him... tease them out. One day, absent-mindedly lost in thought in drug lock-up, he spoke suddenly, popping up unannounced, behind her. She didn't jump. Instead, she shivered... with, yes, pleasure. And, finally, when she found out what the fuss her body was raising was all about... she felt oddly let down... It was... okay. Okay, but...less than she expected.  
  
Sadness engulfed her, then; she had let him down. Somehow his love for her and her deep regard for him, somehow, it wasn't enough. Just as she'd thrown every previous chance away, she'd blown things with Carter. She had wanted it to work, so much that she overlooked the gulf between what should have been passionate, involved lovemaking and their actual docile, tepid sexual relationship. Often the question would plague her, why? When he seemed to love her so much, obsessively, almost... And she certainly... loved, yes... she loved him... Why, then, did sex with him leave them both wanting?  
  
Not like this time, certainly. Yep. Right here, now, she was crazed with desire for him. She hadn't felt this way since Lu....stop. But too late. The thought was there and she couldn't deny it. She had wanted Luka. So much it hurt her to look at him... She had never wanted anyone as much. Not Richard. No. Doing the right thing at the right time, that was how she felt about marrying Richard, but she never desired him, craved him, the way she craved Luka. And, sadly, as much as she was bound in her heart to Carter, her stubborn libido refused to cooperate. Until now.  
  
"Uhhoooooohh... Carter... John, John don't... " soft exclamations replaced the ragged breaths issuing from her throat. There was something, just on the edge of her consciousness, something she remembered she needed to tell him...? No, something to express... a feeling... "Oh, John, I was so, I missed you so-" All senses lost. Can't form a simple thought..much less express... mmmm...  
  
Through the blurry edges of peaked desire, Carter's words seemed barely audible... Just faint murmerings, a buzzing in her ears. Or was that her blood? She didn't know. She didn't care. Just, don't let it stop...  
  
"Abby..." a kiss, "Abby..." his burning fingertips running down the inside of her thigh, "...the cab was the worst part... I wanted to be here so badly, be with you..." So close now. So close to quenching this thirst... to satisfaction... Oh, stop talking, just touch... touch me... move, yes...   
  
"YES! like that..." without warning, her voice rasped out.  
  
"Ab... by," his breath coming in short gasps, Carter was losing control, too, she could feel him losing it... Knew beyond all reason that this, this was real and burning and nothing like she had experienced with him thus far and, maybe, never would again... and, yet... "Baby, I almost left my bags in the cab... all I could think about... three long weeks... three long weeks and no you... I was... desperate... had to get to you, see you..." a shudder, sharp intake of breath, and then plunging himself, finally, deep inside her, "...feel you..."  
  
So close now... Could feel her pelvis rise to meet him, knew she was... going... to... climax... And, then the release hit her so suddenly, involuntary groanings escaped her parched lips... Almost simultaneously Carter reached his explosive end, his body convulsing in uncontrollable spasms. Tension began to drain from her body like rivulets of spring rain down a window glass... And, peace.  
  
"Wow. Where... where did that come from?" Carter's words made lazy circles in the air before dropping, lightly, on Abby's consciousness. "Carter, shhh, don't speak -you're killin' my buzz..." Whispering, she caressed his upper lip with the soft touch of her index finger. They lay there, spent, until dawn parted night's curtain. Carter rolled over and kissed her, looking deep into her eyes. She tried, but couldn't quite meet his gaze. A soft murmer replaced the smile widening her mouth.  
  
"Well, I was, uh, surprised by that... um, fireworks display..." Abby felt tentative, almost shy.   
  
A muted chuckle escaped Carter's bruised mouth, "Yes, that was, ahah, certainly... something... " His face was a lazy jumble of smile, days old stubble and satisfaction. "I knew I was feeling a little... deprived... but I didn't know I had that in me..." Completely contented, his body fell languidly back to the bed.  
  
Her heart began thumping louder in her chest. It was coming to her; the faint, bothersome...something, at the back of her mind... This... thing... that passion submerged deep in her consciousness. Oh, no... NO! She had let her guard down -AGAIN- No, no, no , no... How... Stupid! She was STUPID.  
  
That was it. The irritating... thing... forcing it's way into her consciousness... Him, coming here like this, rushing from the plane, mentally urging the cab... He wanted... her? No. He wanted... sex. Three long weeks with no nookie, this is what drove him to her door. Aaaggh! Stupid, Abby. Plain stupid. After the way he left..? You actually began to believe that...that he wanted YOU? Hah... How could she be so ignorant!  
  
Abruptly, almost harshly, she pushed herself up and off the bed. Faintly, embarrassment at him seeing her exposed completely, pricked at the back of her neck. Or was that rising anger? Disappointment? Thoughts mixed up, she was confused, mildly agitated. She just needed to think clearly.  
  
"I'm... gonna take a shower, Carter; got to be to work... soon..." Please don't let him ask to join me... But she needn't have feared, his soft snoring announced he was asleep.  
  
The hot water hit the back of her head, parting the confusion, crystallizing her thoughts. By the time she toweled off, her course of action was set. As she finished dressing, the words came easily to her. Slicking on a light coat of gloss to her lips, she marshalled her reserves of courage. Opening the door, she strode purposefully to the edge of the bed and nudged Carter, firmly, with her balled fist.  
  
"Carter? Wake up. Carter!" Pushing him to wakefulness, she looked him square in the eye, "Carter? I'm glad you're home. And safe. I prayed you'd make it back. But I can't do this, right now. I, I just can't. I have to get to work, but... take," faltering slightly, " take your time. Eat, have coffee -take a shower, if you like- but when you leave... I.. ah, I would like you to leave my key. Please?" Sharp exhale of breath, a turn on the heel and Abby disappeared through the door.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Author's ramblings:  
  
Well! How do you like it so far? I really enjoyed trying to capture the mindless, breathless thought processes that lovemaking evokes in us mortals! There will likely be more as I want to perfect my grasp of that style. And while this is starting out Carter and Abby angst, it won't -hopefully- remain so. One of my chief complaints about last season was too much C/A turmoil and family-related drama. What about the rest of the cast, huh? I am, however, letting it take me where the spirit moves and the spirit might get stuck on Carter and Abby... Fair warning...  
  
And, as usual - I don't own the characters, I'm just borrowing them, like marionettes, to dance to my tune for a while!  
  
Oh, and, a big "Thank You" and a shout out to all who took the trouble to review! Keep it comin' - I am a feedback junkie. (and not proud of it, either...) 


	3. Inamorata

Chapter 3  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Pinned to the bed in stunned silence, Carter shook his head to clear his confusion. With quickening realization forming tension between his eyes, he surmised that this was no dream. Although the non-sequitor nature of Abby's words and actions fit the profile of some crazy, food-borne illness-induced nightmare. His blood thrummed in his ears as he jumped from the bed, feet barely registering the icy floor, then gathered up and simultaneously pulled on his clothes.   
  
"Oh, no you don't, Lockhart," muttering through tight lips, Carter bounded out of the bedroom and through the door like a shot. 'Take it easy, John,' he thought, 'you don't want to bust your ass,' as he stutter-stepped down the steep staircase. He rounded the last turn and pushed out of the door in a fugue. Stopping long enough to get his bearings, he sighted her and took off again.  
  
"What in hell, is going on?" he spat out, grabbing her arm and forcing her around to face him. "Abby, correct me if I'm wrong -but we connected back there, for the first time in months and you just..." lowering his voice, "You just walk out! You just-" imitating her, "give me my key back, Carter. Take your time, Carter," he was really building steam now, "...get the HELL OUT OF MY LIFE, Carter..." His face, red from exertion and anger, twitched with effort to remain in control. Watching her for any sign of contrition, he let his hand drop from her arm and ran it, instead, through his uncombed hair. Seeing her unable to meet his gaze, deflated his agitation. His breath, dammed-up from frustration, came out in a quiet rush and then quietly, "Abby, what is going on? What happened?" he pleaded.  
  
Her tone flat, Abby turned her defiant chin up, intoning dully, "Nothing happened, Carter. Nothing EVER just happens. You should know that. You're the one who told me..." Turning her head, she fixed her gaze away from him.  
  
"What does that mean? What? do you want me to read your moods, now, Abby?" Cheap shot, but he took it, "You want me to put the index card of clues-"  
  
"Carter, stop it. I have to get to-"  
  
" -you've given me to my forehead and GUESS what's going on-"  
  
"-work, I am going to be late-"  
  
"-is that what you want?"  
  
"-Weaver's pissed at the construction and she'll-"  
  
"-Well, I can't, Abby-"  
  
"-take it out on me if I get there-"  
  
"-I can't do it -I never-"  
  
"-LATE!!"  
  
"-COULD!"  
  
He felt ridiculous. Having some lover's quarrel out in the street; this wasn't his style. "Abby," making effort to control his new-awakened temper, "come back up to the apartment. Call Weaver-"  
  
"Romano's ER chief, now," she interjected.  
  
"-Romano, hell, WHOever! Tell them you will be late-"  
  
"I don't want to be late, Carter." She fixed him with her most intractable stare.  
  
"Tell them you will be late and let's talk this out!" he finished, exasperated.  
  
Momentarily, she looked away. She looked back at him, her lips twisted in an attempted smile, "Carter, I know you are lonely and hurt. I was fully prepared to welcome you home, if you'd have me. But," at this she let out a sardonic chuckle, "...even I have a line in the sand, Carter. I know I don't deserve you. I am a drunk, I smoke -hell, I'm a walking laundry list of 'Things Potential Mates Should Avoid' but I know you came back to my place looking for comfort of the physical kind... I know, you made it crystal-clear, that you don't want to be with me-"  
  
"I never made that remotely clear, Abby, because I don't FEEL it..."  
  
She barked out a laugh now, "Oh, no, Carter, you didn't feel it." Checking his face for signs of recognition, "The restaurant you bought out, Carter? The long speech about 'people change' -God, I wish I'd seen that one coming!- The ring?" Seeing his face change, a blush spread over his cheeks, she rushed on, "Oh, yes. I found the ring. I grabbed your coat, that night, to hang it up...? Yeah. The ring just fell out of your pocket, Carter, 'blop' right there on my kitchen table."  
  
"The timing wasn't right... You said you thought people never..." Embarrassed, he changed directions, "God, Abby -I didn't know you knew about the ring..." It was his turn to look away, unable to make eye-contact.  
  
"I suspected at the restaurant, you know? A swanky place like that -no customers but us? I'm not a complete idiot, Carter... I put two and two together. I just hoped, against hope, you wouldn't do anything so... so foolish..." Her words fading, Abby grew pensive, "And yet, Carter, I was let down when I saw that ring..." He felt a twinge of guilt. He was able understand the fool she must have felt that night. But that wasn't his intention. Not once.  
  
"I never intended you to know, I was afraid that we were going in opposite directions, Abby."  
  
"No. You think I'm screwed up. And I agree. See? Same direction." She threw this at him.  
  
Why did she always do this? AAAuughg! "It is impossible to talk to you." It hadn't always been... "You fit everything I say -everything I do, into that script running in the back of your mind. That 'nothing will ever be good, my life sucks' script, Abby. I don't want to play that part -I wasn't there to help you author that shit and yet, you forced me into it! Didn't you?" His nerves shot, his lust for battle almost spent, Carter turned around and leaned against the brick wall of her building for support. He was really beginning to feel his exhaustion.  
  
"I never forced you into anything. I warned you -you ignored me." Her cheeks flushed with anger, "You came back and you came to me but it could have been anyone." Eyes flashing, she continued, "It doesn't matter, now, anyway. We tried, but we failed to make ourselves lovers -we were friends. We should have stayed that way."  
  
"I didn't come to you, straight off an overnight flight, because I was horny, Abby. It didn't happen with just anyone, either, it happened with us. But you go ahead and make of it what you want, because that is what you will do anyway, isn't it?" He cocked his head at her, looking for some remnant of the woman in the bed upstairs. But no, she was long gone. Elvis had checked out of the place...  
  
Abby shifted uncomfortably, glanced at the cracks in the sidewalk and quickly back up at Carter, "I have to go to work. Now. I don't know what this means for us," He saw uncertainty flit across her face, but too soon, she replaced it with resolve, "but I know we should step back and let things cool down, uh, cool down a bit... before..."  
  
"Uh, yeah," he interrupted, " yeah, we should give each other some space for a while..." God, he felt drained. Absolutely exhausted. "Abby," she stopped, turned around, "come here," she looked dubious, "...no, just come here..." He closed the distance between them and drew her into his arms. "I thought of you, Abby; in Africa, when that gun was pressed into my head and I didn't know if I'd live or die. I thought of you." With that, Carter broke the embrace, turning swiftly, and walked back into the building.  
  
Abby stared after him, her mouth cemented closed from shock. "What gun, Carter-" she choked out, but, too late. He had already disappeared.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Author's Ramblings:  
  
I am afraid. I am very afraid. I put an "R" rating on this thing due to the first and third chapters (excluding the author's note, of course. Anyone know how I can remove that without losing my story?) My review numbers are limping along... I am concerned the scarlet "R" is putting people off? Should I lose the rating, go back to "PG-13" and put a strong warning in the summary? I don't think there will be any more racy material for a while... Don't know what to do, any suggestions?  
  
And to those who reviewed, Thank you! It is very helpful and much appreciated.  
  
~Solard 


	4. When the hurlyburly's done

Note: this is a long one. Thank you to Dark Sparrow. You are a class act. And Ella, you're right. I have to write for myself. Damn the torpedoes -here goes.  
  
Chapter Four  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Shit. Shitshitshit. What was THAT? Abby, have you completely lost your mind? Have the crazy genes decided to take up habitation in ME? Decisively she turned, pushed on absentmindedly toward the EL platform. I can't go back up there. I should... but I can't! Romano hates my guts and- "why do I care what that Napoleonic tyrant thinks..." Abby muttered. Noticing the stares of her fellow passengers, Abby rose from the seat she'd just taken and walked to the back of the EL car. Right. I'm just another funtioning neighborhood lunatic riding the EL, she thought, '...nothing to see here folks...' As the gentle rocking of the train lulled her ravaged senses, the need for nicotine crept slowly up the back of her mind. Logical. She always wanted a smoke after se.... Stop, Abby, she chided herself, best not to think of that. Too dangerous. At least, not right now. Feeling a blush replacing the nicotine craving, rising from her neck, washing over her face, she realized, nope, too late. She couldn't help herself; she hadn't been taken like that -consumed, really- in such a long time. Had Carter always loved her like that? With such intensity and passion? Just couldn't show it, physically? And the gun? She gave an involuntary shudder. What had happened to him over there?  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Hey, Ab' " Yosh Takada's smiling face was the first thing Abby was fully conscious of since Carter dropped "the gun" on her. And he was... smoking?   
  
"Hey, hello yourself, Yosh!" Abby liked Yosh. He was always cheerful and helpful and, God love him, he was such a gossip-monger. Abby actually, shamefully, liked gossip. She felt a reluctant smile spread across her lips. "What're you doing smoking," she emphasized mock-seriously, "don't you know it will stunt your growth," voice dropping to a whisper, "down there?" She grabbed her own pack, tore off the top of the wrapper, and shook one out.   
  
Yosh laughed, "It's not like it's been much use to me, lately, and anyway -hypocrite!" he held a flame out for her deftly, "and yes, I am talkin' to you!"  
  
"Ah, come on Yosh... you know the rules,' chuckling, she held up her finger, "Do as I say, not as I do!"  
  
They stood there in companionable silence, each pulling a few heavy drags off their cigarettes. Yosh broke the silence, "I thought you quit." He gave her a sidelong glance.  
  
"I didn't even KNOW you smoked" she smiled, "and, yeah. I quit. But I bought a pack right off the EL this very morning..." Her thoughts turned to the events of that morning. "You know what they say, any thing worth doing is worth doing over..." Tossing her spent butt into the ashcan, Abby turned with a friendly pat on Yosh's shoulder, "Gotta get in there -Romano and Weaver all on the same day, you know." She cast her eyes heavenward in a silent prayer.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Yosh stared after Abby. Boy, she's really friendly this morning, he thought. Except, she looked kind of stressed or something. Oh, well. She's a hard one to read. It's even harder to get any good gossip on her. Not that he tried. He liked Abby. She was always pleasant to him and, anyway, she did right by him with scheduling. He had no complaints.  
  
Seeing Romano making his way up to the ambulance bay door, Yosh quickly took one last drag off his cigarette and aimed it for the ashcan. Not quickly enough; Romano caught him in the cross-hairs and leveled a withering look at him.  
  
"Yo, Bruce Lee, don't you have any work to do?" Romano spat out. "If I need you in the ambulance bay, I'll yank your chopsticks, got it, Yu-gi-oh? He emphasized each syllable, as if speaking to the deaf.  
  
Funny, Yosh usually liked everybody. Usually.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Romano announced his presence in the ER admit area in the same style, every day. "Listen up, you vo-tech school rejects. I want this board cleared and I want it cleared fast. Anybody not critical -treat 'em and street 'em. Turf what you can get away with without causing the hospital frivolous lawsuits. This isn't your grandmother's Sunday meal, people, so stop standing around like a bunch of slack-jawed troglodytes and get something done."  
  
"Jerry, where is the procedure manual on hazardous waste spill protocols?" Rocket barked. Ever since he was humiliated and shuttled down to the ER he had made a point of shouting obscure requests at Jerry. He liked the idea of the good-natured giant, running around with his tail between his legs. Positively David and Goliath-like. A wicked smile spread across his lips, '...only the giant is an idiot and I'm the dwarf with the stones..." he thought.  
  
"Good morning, Robert," Lizzie sang out, "...and I see we've not had our tea this morning, eh?" She was determined to make him crazy, lately. What was it with this woman?  
  
"Ah, Lizzie, slumming it down in the ER? Wanted to step down into the human cess pool, feel our pain?" He challenged her with his insouciant stare. He lowered his voice, "Have you had breakfast, yet?"  
  
"No. And, Yes, I would love to get something to eat with you." Her eyes twinkled, in response. She was   
  
lovely, ravishing. He almost hated her.  
  
"I didn't ask you to breakfast, Lizzie, but since you asked me, I assume you're buying?" He may have lost his arm but, dammit, he would not let her pity him. He would ride her harder than... Oh, yeah. He'd like to ride. But that wouldn't even be a remote possibility, now.  
  
Her face was animated, she actually seemed to be enjoying this banter. Good performance, Lizzie. "Oh, Robert, how ungallant. You intimated-"  
  
"What's that? Intimate...?" He wedged that in, knowing she would blush. Wait for it... Yes! There it was!  
  
The color was extremely becoming. "As I was saying, Robert; You," clearing her throat, "insinuated, that you were offering breakfast, I merely took you up on the," stressing this, "implied offer."  
  
"Ah, well, dutch treat it is, then..." As they began walking out, Romano switched places with her, and lightly placed his right hand on her back, "unless you change your mind and want to make a kept man out of me..."  
  
"This is not a date, Robert," Lizzie stressed, catching Susan's eye and winking, "merely two old friends enjoying a breakfast togeth-" noticing his meaningful look, "don't look at me like that, you know perfectly well, I intended no innuendo of any sort!" Furrowing her brow, she poked him good-naturedly in the ribs.  
  
"No, Lizzie, I was merely savoring the mental picture of us," and he lowered his voice again, "enjoying... breakfast... together." He stared intently into her eyes. There it was again -that lovely shade of rose rising in her cheeks...  
  
"Robert, I will leave you... what is that expression? oh, yes -like a bad habit. No, it's drop. Yes, I will drop you like a bad habit if you do that again!" her words bit at him sharply, "Play nice, Robert." But her eyes were smiling.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Susan shook her head and chuckled. How does that woman put up with him so well? Susan liked Romano well enough -he was marginally more respectful to her than he was to anyone else in the ER. Although he certainly didn't treat her with deference, he generously offered her common courtesy and a modicum of professional respect. The same could not be said for her colleagues. Or Elizabeth. But there was something entirely different going on there...Well, work to do, she thought and called out, "Chuny, will you get me Roberson's chart and meet me in curtain two?"  
  
Chuny grabbed the chart, "Susan, you want me to get a suture kit, too?" Chuny deposited money on the desk for the football pool, "That's my ticket outta here, so be careful with that money!" she said, with a laugh.  
  
"Yeah. And Chuny -I saw your picks. Don't quit your job, yet..." Susan tossed her head back, a laugh escaping from her carefully composed expression. She detoured and grabbed some sterile dressing, meeting up with Chuny at the pulled curtain. "Mr. Roberson, I see on your chart that you were smashing cans on your forehead...?" As she pulled the curtain back she exchanged a look with Chuny, 'what a dumb ass' floating in the air between them.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Unbelievable! You people are unbelievable!" Kerry didn't know how much more of this she could take. The remodel was supposed to be her piece de resistance, but was turning into a massive piece of shit. Deadlines not met. Promises not kept. And the money. Constantly refiguring the budget; asking for more money. "Get out of my ambulance bay -if you're not working, find someplace else to loaf!" The stress of taking over the Chief of Staff position, coupled with this damn remodeling campaign, not to mention the Alderman... threatened to topple even Kerry's legendary determination.  
  
The Alderman. His attentions to County were increasingly fueling the rumour mill around the hospital, but especially in the ER. She knew what people were saying, knew that toad Romano had probably started the rumours... She snorted, out loud. 'Yeah, right! I'm gay -he's gay,' she mused, 'Do they think that combination is like a double negative? The two gays cancel each other out and become straight?' She laughed at herself now. The first real laugh in a while. And, anyway, she realized that no one knew the Alderman was gay. Except for her. And his dead lover. Kerry felt tears sting her eyes. Trapped, caught between ambition and a real desire to help, Kerry had always walked the edge of the abyss. Now, she felt she was being pushed. She leaned through the restroom door upstairs, grabbed a tissue and sank against the wall for support. Wiping her tired eyes, she was startled at the realization that she was thinking about Mark. He was a true friend. She thought of his steadfast acceptance of her professionally and, she liked to think, personally. Even when she was butting heads with his best friend. She and Mark were yin and yang. But she had taken him for granted. Now, he was dead. And she really needed a friend.  
  
"Oh, well, no sense dwelling in the past." She muttered as she exited the restroom. She looked up just in time to narrowly avoid bumping into Carter.  
  
"Kerry" he nodded, not uncordially.  
  
"Carter -you're back. Good to see you in one piece." A tentative smile curled her mouth.  
  
"Yeah. I was lucky. So, who's living in the past?" He asked. If it were anyone else, Kerry might be offended. But she had always nursed a soft spot for Carter. Despite their many differences over the years.  
  
"Oh, Carter -just thinking out loud." she evaded, but then thought, take a chance, "Actually, you ever think about Mark Greene?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Well, you know. Not as much as I used to, but occasionally... I'll be reminded of something he said..." His voice trailed off, his eyes did too. "What made you think of Mark, Kerry?"   
  
"Just. Well, I respected him professionally and thought of him as a friend... I guess with Romano in the ER, I was missing him..." she looked at the terrazzo floor.  
  
"Hey, uh, Kerry," Carter hesitated, "do you want to get a bite to eat? I was just on my way..."  
  
"No, no -I have some adminis-" stopping suddenly, she thought better of it and exhaled quickly, "You know -it can wait. Yes. I am rather hungry."   
  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Author's Ramblings:  
  
I am trying to be fair and balanced. Giving some of the other characters some play. You know, like the nurses and the other doc's in the ER? Remember Lydia? Connie? Or (this takes me back) WENDY?? Yeah, they're kinda fuzzy in my mind too! But I will rescusitate them. Bandage them up and send 'em back in the field. Because this is ER. It ain't no stinking soap opera, yo? 


	5. Whirlwind

~Author's note~  
  
Ahhhhh! 'S good to be back. The outside world is a hearty taskmistress, eh? Ella, twenty-odd chapters, where did you find the time?  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter Five:  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"So, Carter," distracted by the noise of the busy cafateria, Kerry searched the room with her eyes, "you've been to Africa..." She was a little unsure of how this conversation would go. When she accepted, on a whim, to have lunch with Carter, she was in a rare emotionally vulnerable state. That state had passed. Kerry liked Carter; she just made it a policy to never get too close to colleagues. Except for Mark, the thought came back like a dull ache. But that closeness had steeled itself into her subconscious -she hadn't even known it existed until that damn fax from Hawaii...  
  
"Uh, yes, yes -It's," a nervous chuckle, " -it's certainly something... You've been, right?" She only nodded, so Carter continued, "I didn't know that people... Well, I guess I've always been so comfortable..." he shifted, uncomfortably, "I didn't realize people had to endure rather than actually live..." His eyes flitted in her direction and then, quickly, away. There it was again. That... nervous, or maybe... agitated? squirm in his chair.   
  
"You've an interesting and very valuable perspective now, Carter, a perspective most of us don't have the opportunity to develop..." He definitely wasn't making eye contact... Was Carter in trouble again...? Kerry let her eyes hone in on Carter's demeanor, searching for the inevitable signs. "I think people with plenty tend to think everyone has enough. Or, at least, have access." No...no, she could be wrong but she didn't think he was struggling with relapse. He was definitely different but, Kerry thought, somehow in a not altogether bad way. "We walk around in a little bubble sometimes, never realizing that a significant portion of the world goes to bed hungry every night. I mean," she paused searching his face, " we just don't think about that stuff, right?"   
  
"Yeah, well -I thought I had that perspective, thought with my family and Bobby and..." Imperceptible as a breath, his voice faded into the cafeteria noise. "Hey," switching directions, "you wouldn't believe Kovac -he seems to be in his element... I think he's actually having fun over there. Crazy. It's like in spite of the frustration -seeing sickness you know you could cure, if you only had the right meds -it just..." a flick of his eyes; then a quick, mirthful chuckle, "..I guess 'The Cape' just looks good on him..."  
  
" 'Kovac as Superman,' " Kerry snorted, "it's a bit of a stretch, Carter, but I can see where field medicine might wear well on him..."   
  
"Yeah, yeah... he, ah... I don't know if he's even coming back. I left him there, in the middle of all this, this... fighting...told him not to get himself killed..." That Carter was chewing on something was ever more apparant, especially when he spoke of Kovac.  
  
"Well," Kerry weighed her words diplomatically, "it's no secret that Luka has many... misgivings, regarding County procedures..."  
  
"Yeah..." Carter readily agreed, "but I don't think it's so much the procedures, Kerry... I think it's just the bureaucracy that gets to him..." he looked up quickly, "Oh, I, uh, damn. No offence to you, of course..."  
  
"No, Carter, don't worry about it," she let out an amused chuckle, "...maybe I took the position in order to cut through some of that crap. Or maybe," her mouth twitched into a sardonic bow, "I'm just the ball-busting, power-hungry bitch everyone thinks I am..."  
  
Tension thickened the already dense air for the tiniest moment before they both burst out laughing.   
  
"Kerry, no one-"  
  
"No, it's oka-"  
  
Nodding his head, he urged her, "...go ahead, you first..." their shared laughter still encircling them.  
  
"It's just that any person in a position of authority has to be prepared to face the animosity of their colleagues..." It sounded textbook and lame even to her own ears. "Carter, I have few illusions. I know people think I am... less than desirable in the personality department."  
  
"Kerry, I don't think..." She could see he agreed with her. Carter was just too polite to confirm her suspicion. "I think you have a job to do. And you do it well." Looking up at her from under his brow, "And, in the process, your, ah, demeanor rubs some people the wrong way..."  
  
Well done, Carter. "You know," she felt more jovial now, "you would make a pretty fair administrator. You've certainly nailed the bullshit aspect," catching the quick panicked look in his eye, she continued, "but you have to work on that poker face." He blinked, uncomprehending at first. As realization dawned, his face broke into a relaxed grin.  
  
"Ahhh, heh -you almost had me there." Slight pause, "But, Kerry, you know I would rather practice medicine than deal with the administrative end." He shook his head, let out a muffled chuckle, "After all, I have family pressure to run the Carter Foundation, an edict from the damn grave -and I won't budge..." His voice trailing off, Carter shook his head. "The thing I don't get," defeated almost, "I have never wavered in my commitment to medicine. Not once," looking up tentatively, "and Gam- my Grandmother -and I mean no disrespect, but... she finds a way to simultaneously alienate my father even further," his voice cracking, "and pull at me, too. To do something she knows -knew- I don't want to do..." Kerry could see he was trying to mask his bitterness. Uncomfortable, Kerry attempted to change the subject.  
  
"Well, families all have their own ways of communicating, John. Some of that, I'm sure, was well-intentioned, wasn't it?" With the question hanging unanswered, Kerry discreetly moved on, "However, you seem determined to pass on the chairmanship, and the company will survive. Of that you can rest assured." A swift intake of breath and, "What exactly happened over there, in...You were in the Congo, right?" Gazing evenly, she made her face impassive. Give the poor guy an out...  
  
Visibly grateful, Carter plunged in enthusiastically, "It was... amazing. I mean, the conditions were primitive at best. Meds were, are- well, they're tributes to primitive medical practice. Penicillin, Kerry -no erythromycin, nothing modern. Forget sterile conditions, heh -I don't even remember washing my hands properly. The power went out... We all just understood that we would keep going until the generators ran out... It was hack medicine, Kerry, we all knew it, but-" gulping air, Carter allowed a mellow grin to spread across his features, "... I felt, for the first time in, well, longer than I can remember; I felt like I was really practicing medicine. Meeting needs, listening to my patients; bonding with them... It was," glancing back down at his hands, "simply extraordinary."  
  
"It sounds like you had a life-changing experience, John." In spite of herself, she was moved by his confessional. "It sounds, too, like you might be looking for a permanent change of scenery...?" Ever the admin. Hey, if Carter was thinking of vacating and with Kovac all but history, she would need to replace them. Just being practical.  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't go that far... I mean, things here have been pretty bad for a while, personally," his brow pinched again, " but professionally, well... I know County. I am used to County. It's almost a part of my DNA, at this point. I would have to think long and hard about moving on..." looking up, lost, "make sure it was for the right reasons..."  
  
Kerry had never been good at the friendship talk. Just didn't know how to go about it. She had come closest to a solid work friendship with Mark. But, even their communication skimmed the surface. She'd never trusted herself to really open up. Or to allow him to open up, either. She should work on that. And Carter looked like he needed a friend, right now. Maybe more than she did. "John, is there something else on your mind? Ummm, anything you want to talk about?" Where in hell did that come from? Sometime, Kerry, some day maybe... you could cultivate a friendship... "You just seem, I don't know, down. And strangely up at the same time..." Oh, that made a shit load of sense...  
  
Startled, Carter looked up, blurting, "It's not... I don't want to, uh. Wow. You caught me by surprise..." His eyes pleaded with her.  
  
"No, I didn't mean to shock, or... John. I don't mean to pry. I just thought..." This is why. This is why she didn't do frindshippy talk. Testing the water, Kerry started over, "You and I have known each other a long time. We both have had occasion to examine our lives through the lense of experience recently." She was really getting lost here. Tie it up, Kerry, she thought, tie it up neatly. "Honestly? Mine has come up wanting." At his surprised look, she assured him, "Yes, John. I realized I have the job I've always wanted. But I don't have one friend in this god-forsaken building."  
  
"Kerry, you said yourself-"  
  
She interrrupted, "I'm not in need of a shoulder at this point, John. I was offering mine to you. You look like you could use it." With this she looked, embarrassed now, down at her hands. "I'd like to think if I ever did need -you'd do the same for me..." There. Out in the open now.  
  
"Kerry, I... you didn't..." Stealing a glance up, she could see this was uncharted water for him too. "I, uh... Well -you know about my Gam- uh, my Grandmother. Trying to enforce her will on me through her, heh, Will. My father was overjoyed at that one..." The determined look in his eyes told her he would give this a shot. "He was hoping for the chairmanship... Can't say as my, uh, Grandmothers decision has brought us any closer." Pausing, he glanced out the cafeteria door and then quickly looked back, "And... things on an even more personal note are... well, they are 'not' at the moment."  
  
"You're speaking of... Abby...?" Kerry might have seemed unconcerned with the daily affairs of her coworkers but she kept herself informed, nonetheless.  
  
Again, Carter looked sideswiped, "Uh," an uncomfortable chuckle, "yes. Precisely, that. But I won't burden you with that, uh, that personal crap..." And that was about all Kerry could endure for the moment. Social skills were like muscles; they would atrophy from disuse. But also, best not to overdo it on the first time out, either...  
  
Attempting to look as concerned and caring as she desired to be, Kerry reached across and patted Carter on the arm. "I don't want to leave you hanging. You've trusted me with your concerns and I appreciate that. But," glancing at her watch, "I am now five minutes late for a meeting with Anspaugh," rising, steadying herself on her cane, "and you know what? I don't care! It has been... nice. Yes. It's been nice talking to you John. But I better be going, now, or I may lose this job I'm not quite sure I really want..." Pausing long enough to gather her paperwork and, maybe, her wits, she looked at him, "Thank you, John. I needed that, today. Needed to be just 'Kerry' for a while..."  
  
"Uh, no problem, Kerry..." she noticed the puzzled look on his face, "we'll try and do this more often, huh?" he questioned.  
  
"Yes. Yes, we will." She passed hurriedly out the busy cafeteria entrance and disappeared down the hall.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Carter sat a moment in perplexed silence. Feeling like he'd just been deposited by a tornado, he was slightly disoriented. What had that been about? He had actually opened up to Kerry. Well, a bit, anyway. Not about what was consuming his thoughts, certainly. But about the damn Gamma / Carter Foundation debacle. There was no one to tell of his thoughts on Abby. No one who would really understand. She was... well, at one time he thought SHE was the tornado. But it was more complicated than that.  
  
Paying for his food at the cashier station, he absentmindedly recited, "Soup, uh, Chicken Noodle. A sandwich and, uh, pie. Pie, uh, and... coffee..." Pie and Coffee. John and Abby. He missed her. They'd made a shambles of their relationship; their friendship. Slowly making his way out of the now nearly deserted cafeteria, he thought about what drew him to her. Her life was chaos, sure; she pushed him away, yes... But she pushed in a way that made him know she really wanted him to stay. Or so he thought. Maybe he didn't really know her at all.  
  
For him, though, being drawn to Abby was like blinking. He didn't think about it -he just did it. She was complicated, he knew that. He could spend the rest of his life trying to figure her out and would only touch the tip of the iceberg. But he knew, deep in his bones, why he was pulled, irresistably, in her direction. Her inauspicious entry into his life, her redemptive betrayal of his addiction to his mentors had become the fulcrum point of his life.   
  
Before Addiction, After Addiction was simplistic. For him, it was the whole of it; from Sobrieki's knife twisting deep in his back, helplessly watching as Lucy died in front of his eyes, the pull of drugs, dragging him into the abyss, Abby's having the guts to "narc" on him, to see that he got help. That was it. Abby -screwed up, self-defeating, alcoholic, casualty of her mother's illness; sweet, sorrowful Abby had done for him what she couldn't do for herself. She was inside him just as deeply as that knife had been, paring away all the excess crap; challenging him to get on with it! Live. Accept the simplest hypothesis. Sometimes shit happens, Carter, he heard her voice in his head, So, deal with it; take action. Even if, sometimes, it wasn't the right action...  
  
In his most private mind, when Carter's thoughts on Abby were not very positive, he thought of her as that proverbial two-edged sword. She cut into him deeply. She challenged him to the point of distraction. She twisted him with pain. She confused him to no end, and made him wonder -sometimes daily- if she was worth the trouble.  
  
But, she also saved his life. Took on sponsorship of him against her better judgement because he prevailed upon her. Maybe at a bad time in her life, when she shouldn't have sponsored anyone, much less him. She was his friend, then his lover -probably against her better judgement, as well. And when she needed him, he tried. His most valiant effort. But they were at cross purposes. She wanted him for security; he was safe. But he wanted her to be "The One."   
  
Yep. This is what was really bothering him. Stuff he couldn't discuss with anyone, least of all Kerry. These were things that, if they were happening with someone else, he would discuss them with Abby.  
  
Things were really screwed up, now. Probably beyond repair.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Author's Ramblings:  
  
I've been gone for a while and I may have lost you, gentle readers... I hope not. This one was tough. I needed to get some exposition in, and that's not an easy task. Especially if you're trying not to make one character look like a mere sounding board for another! **wink** This is going somewhere, I promise. Please stick with me. 


	6. Don't Know Why

*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
When I saw the break of day  
  
I wished that I could fly away  
  
Instead of kneeling in the sand  
  
Catching teardrops in my hand  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Abby kicked at the door with the heel of her boot. "Come on you sonofabitch, open -sesame..." Muttering under her breath, she abused the door to get it to open. As she tossed her keys on the table, Abby reflected on her day. Her sober day.  
  
This would be.... thirty-seven? No, thirty-six, that's right. Thirty-six days; clean and sober. Would'a been thirty-six days as a non-smoker, too -if it hadn't been for that, that...roll in the hay? With...him; with Carter. "Well, I could use a drink," she announced, to no one. Pulling her boots off, she headed for the kitchen. "Let's see," glancing in the fridge, "we have a half-full carton of milk," sniffing, Abby sputtered, "Auugh, better let the help finish that carton off," pouring the milk down the disposal, "and some tomato juice from.... last spring's Nurse's Breakfast..." dropping the can in the trash, "...and, aha! some orange juice that looks like it may have come from this year -We have a winner!" Grasping the carton, Abby reached for a glass. Thinking better of it, she tipped the carton to her lips.  
  
One lone swallow dripped into her mouth. "Ahhhh! Good to the last drop." Hmmm, maybe coffee wouldn't be so bad. She hadn't been sleeping very well anyway. She pried at the coffe can lid with still-cold fingers. Mere coffee dust clinging to the insides of the can, reminded Abby; it was Carter's turn to buy java. But he hadn't been around. And she hadn't been home to notice the lack of brewable coffee. Between impromptu meetings with her sponsor and extra, mind-numbing shifts at the ER, (she took extra night shifts; Carter was on days...) she hadn't logged too many miles with either her kitchen or her pillow.  
  
Flopping down on the couch, Abby absentmindedly fiddled with the tv remote. Nothing on. Nothing to distract the mind from pesky little thoughts that she was trying to steer clear of, right now. As the second thought of a drink began to tickle the edges of her mind, she decided to call her sponsor.  
  
"Hey, Elle -it's me. It too late?" She had yet to call when it was. But, still, nice to ask.  
  
"Hello, Abby, everything alright?" Elle's voice soothingly stroked her ear.  
  
"Oh...yeah. Everything's okay. I just... well -I'm having a moment of weakness and didn't want to start drinking the vanilla. You know, the usual..." She knew Elle saw through her attempts at humor. But, hell, it made her feel a little less... foolish, somehow.  
  
"So. Tell me."  
  
Elle Pierce was the closest thing to a best friend Abby had in a long time. Cool, unflappable, sharp. she always encouraged Abby to cut to the chase; and, yet, never seemed brusque or insensitive. As her sponsor, Elle insisted Abby call anytime, anytime at all, and she meant it. Abby turned to her when Carter left for Africa; and, now, she was calling on her friend when he came back.   
  
"Well, uh... yeah." Not knowing how to broach the subject with her, Abby grew silent. Elle maintained the quiet, yet Abby could tell she was listening. Waiting patiently. "Okay, um, he's back... He came directly to my place and used his key to get in. I woke up and there he was, just sitting on my bed..." Abby faltered. The image of John, hunched over, his back quaking with soul-deep sobs, tugged at her. Fighting back her own tears, she closed her eyes and let the image play out.  
  
"That's good, right?"  
  
"No! I mean, yes... well -I'm glad he's alive, Elle, but he LEFT me. He said nothing was right in his life -including me. After the last couple of months, I don't know why I was surprised... We didn't talk, not really... didn't listen to each other..." Her voice trailed off. And then, thoughtfully, "He made it pretty clear... that we were over. I don't think I even had a say in the matter... He wouldn't let me defend myself, and obviously I did SOMEthing wrong, ya know? And then, he just shows up and, what? -he misses me, right? It's not fai-"  
  
"Abby, slow down... are you angry because he left or angry because he came back?"  
  
"Both!" Sucking in her breath, Abby broke into rough laughter. " I know! I am being childish, right? That's why I called you, dear Sponsor! I sound insane right now -how'm I supposed to talk to him about how I feel when I am confused by the way I feel?"  
  
"Well, did something happen...? Other than he let himself in, now you're angry at his presumption...?"   
  
This was it. The big, fat question. What HAD happened? Try as she might, she couldn't not think of Carter. His body; his lips; the reverent way he ravaged her. The experience was etched not only in her mind, but almost... in her body as well. If it was possible, she could still feel... him. A blush crept up her face at the mere thought. Simultaneously, she felt this was crazy. Crazy. This was Carter, after all. From the start, she had trouble responding to him as a lover. Sometimes she felt older, more jaded... Sometimes she thought he seemed... inexperienced. Other times, she felt he was half boy, half man. Never, in all the time they spent as a couple had she ever felt... inspired... by the sex. Their conversations lingered in her head, mingled and mixed with deeper emotions in her heart... But the sex? That was incidental. It... was an accepted part of the relationship.   
  
Since "it" happened, however... She hadn't been able to shake the thoughts, the residual sensations of it. Clearing Trauma Two yesterday, she was startled from one such reverie by none other than the man/boy himself. Nearly dropping the handful of used vials and bumping into the crash cart, Abby jumped and generally made an ass of herself trying to escape the room, before he could notice her blushing, befuddled face. She couldn't comprehend the change that had taken place between his bitter "It's not Rio, but it's not here..." farewell, and his heated, passionate homecoming murmered in her ear. That he had changed was understandable. Nothing, however, could account for the change in her body's response to him. This is what confounded her.  
  
That night, he'd talked about changing... How things weren't right but that they'd never be the same again. She had resigned herself that, at least, they were having the "break up talk." She'd gotten up to go make coffee -knowing she wouldn't be sleeping but... John had gently pulled her to him and....  
  
"Abby, you still there?  
  
"Um, yeah... I'm still here. I, ah, god..." Not quite able to get her mind around it, Abby blurted, " Elle, he kissed me. And, no -not just 'kissed' as in 'Hi, honey, I'm home..' No. It was... it was like he was... I don't know! Like he was a drowning man and I was oxygen.... He drew me into HIM with that kiss and before I knew what was really happening we-"  
  
"You slept with him." Her tone was kind, coaxing.  
  
"Yes, but ... not! Elle. This was not just sex. This was... huh..." Waiting for the right word to come wasn't working... " It was... primitive. It was sacred... It was almost like..." Best not to go there. "Well. It scared me."  
  
"Why did it scare you?" Gently picking her way, Elle softened her voice.  
  
"Why didn't it happen before? Why did it take the end of the road to... to DO that..."  
  
"To 'do' what?"  
  
"To, I don't know... to really open up like that...?"  
  
"That what scared you?"  
  
"No. I was scared after, not before..."  
  
"So, wait a minute... I'm not sure I'm following you, Abby -You were scared because you, what? Because you lost control, a little?"  
  
"No! I'm scared to death, Elle. Because..." Drawing a sharp breath, "I threw him out. Told him to give me my key back -"  
  
"So you're scared you... Are you scared you 'killed' it?"  
  
"Yes! Yes. I didn't think Elle. I just... I jumped to the conclusion that he only stopped at my place because he wanted to get laid..." The fight in the street... The look in his eyes when he said he thought of her... She was so scared to admit what she feared? hoped? she saw there...  
  
"Go on..." Skillfully, Elle urged her on. With vague recognition, Abby knew she was being guided. Mostly, she hated that; when people tried to tell her what to do. But with Elle; well... she just really appreciated the direction, the patience...  
  
"I thought -after I acted impulsevely, asking for my key back... We had a fight. In the street... in front of my building. -Something in his face, I don't know... in his eyes..." Trying to find the words, Abby only grew more unsure. She couldn't trust her instincts -they were so screwed up. Part of her wanted, desperately, to believe that John loved her... that they could work this out... but she just couldn't trust it...  
  
"What happened Abby? What brought you to this ... state?"  
  
She wished right in that moment that she had a drink. No. The truth? She wished she had a whole bottle. Knowing Elle placed heavy weight upon honesty, though, Abby swallowed hard and blurted out, "He loves me, Elle, or did. And I blew it."  
  
"You really think so?"   
  
"Don't you?" Quick as a shot, Abby flung the net out -hoping, against hope, Elle would tell her everything would be okay... Knowing better, Abby regretted the words as soon as they were out.  
  
"I can't tell you that, Abby, you know that..."  
  
I know... I know. It was unfair of me to expect... to pump you for reassurance. It's just that..." Sighing heavily, she continued, "I thought I'd be glad he was home alive and," casting about for the exact feeling, "I didn't expect to sleep with him! I don't know what will happen between us. But I know that sleeping with him was the wrong thing to do. It's just gonna confuse everything... And I feel guilty, now, because I think I used him, now, too, and because it was so... INCREDIBLE, when it was never incredible before, and... Why? Why does he go away pissed and I'm pissed because he's pissed but he comes back and we connected like we've never connected before when we were SUPPOSED to be a couple and... GAH! I really want a drink. BAD!" The tension burst from her in a sharp laugh. "So, that is why I called you, Elle. Because, I grooved with my boyfriend who is not my boyfriend and now I'm confused and stuck and ... I just don't want to go back to the drink -you know?"  
  
"Do you love him, Abby?"  
  
Hitting her mind with an almost physical slap, the quesion rendered Abby temporarily speechless. 'Do you love him, Abby. Do you love him. Do you?' Caught in a loop, it played over in her head.   
  
Reaching for her cigarettes, Abby answered softly, "Elle. I ... I love him.. I don't want to ... but I do."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Author's Ramblings:  
  
Hello! I've been so busy with real life, and so caught up in future ER developments (don't worry, won't give anything away!) that I haven't been able to get back to my own soap opera! But, I'm carving time out where there is no time, because I have directions to take these characters... and I'm not sure my version will go the way of what we see on our screens.... and I might need this story in a wistful way, soon....  
  
The lyric at the beginning is from the incomparable Norah Jones... the chapter title is from the same song. If you haven't listened to her, I highly recommend her -she soothes the soul.... 


	7. Letting Go

Author's Disclaimer: Some of this is loosely quoted from "Now What" and "Dear Abby." I acknowledge up front that I am not taking credit for the words, or the loose translation of them or the idea, even. I am interweaving my ideas throughout what is actually airing this season....so far! **wink** So, that said, on with my (version of the) show...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
feed me something  
  
we'll go back to the start  
  
take pride of place  
  
understand our reasons  
  
a photograph taken at the time when  
  
confidence won't up and leave  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Awkward. That's what it was. Abby had tried to avoid it, but working in the same hospital, the hide and seek wouldn't last forever.... So, she and Carter were working the same shift today. She spent most of it trying to avoid him. And it didn't matter, anyway; they broke up. It was a done deal, 'I think...' She couldn't get away from the niggling doubt. 'I asked for my key back. That's it. It's over.' Workplace relationships... She now was 0 for 2...  
  
But then they were thrown together for that trauma... Carter's perturbed, "I got your present... Subtle, Abby, subtle..." flung at her between arguments over medical procedure. Okay, admittedly, it wasn't a very nice gesture, leaving a small bag of his stuff on his locker... However, for sentimental reasons, she had kept a lot more of it than she stuffed in that little bag. "Page me if you need me..." he'd said when called out of the trauma. "I won't." she'd muttered. Again. Not very nice. But he was acting like a jerk -made her want to lash out at him...  
  
"Hi." His voice stopped her thoughts dead in their tracks.  
  
"Hi." Answering back, nonchalantly...  
  
Something caught the corner of Abby's attention -looking quickly, she saw Susan 'nudging' her silently to "...TALK to him, for crying out loud..." Knitting her brow, she gave back an almost imperceptible nod, "No!"  
  
Spinning around, she attempted escape, but -too late, Carter had quickly cut her off, "Coffee?" he shorthanded.  
  
"Sure," she answered back.  
  
Two nods and then two ways, parted.  
  
And now, here they were. Walking almost amicably together...  
  
"So, how was it? Africa... I mean." She was trying -really she was.  
  
Carter's face took on the animated quality that she loved so well... recognizable from before... before her family came between them ... "Oh, it was terrible. The healthcare is rudimentary, the conditions... worse. It's savage and ... well, startling. The countryside is dark and rough and ...beautiful. You'd like it, I think, its... such a dichotomy, really..."  
  
Talking to him; listening to him, really, Abby felt almost like old times... He went on to describe Angelique and Charles; Patrique... his problems with the French language barrier. She even almost laughed when he described his comic attempts at communicating in this foreign language. She was growing so comfortable, in fact, she thought, maybe, just maybe -things would be all right. Without even a second thought, and realizing he hadn't even mentioned the person who convinced him to go in the first place; curiosity prompted her to ask, "How is Luka?"  
  
One beat. One beat of stony silence, and then, "Is that what this is all about?" he almost spat. Carter quickened his pace; Abby was forced to race-walk beside him.  
  
"No..." she sputtered. This was coming from left field. "What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"He's fine!" Spitefully, now, "Actually-" a hard, mean, little chuckle, "-he's better than fine!"  
  
"Carter -what are you..." What was THAT supposed to mean? then, "You know, we don't really talk anymore? Your lips are moving and you seem to be having a conversation, but when you've finished I have no idea what you're saying... what you're thinking....?"  
  
"Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm saying, Abby... It's the same thing it's been from the start...." his voice almost savage, now.  
  
"You knew, KNEW, I didn't want you to go and you went anyway... What? were you trying to ... to PUNISH me? Carter? Because-"  
  
"Abby, you don't even know what you want... and I can't read your-"  
  
"Did you even think of me while you were there? Did you?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"What did you think? What?"  
  
No answer. Just a defiant, guilty look on his face. She knew it. Angrier than she'd been since... since she couldn't remember when, she threw out, "I don't know why you even bothered to come back!" Turning quickly; she stalked toward the hospital entrance.  
  
"Oh, that's great, Abby -just walk away! It's what you do best!" he yelled after her.  
  
Okay, that's it. She felt like leaping at his face, "Okay. You know what YOU do best, Carter? You blame everything on my problems. And you've got problems too, Carter -BIG problems...."  
  
As Carter raged at Abby, Chuny practically ran into her in the bay, with such terrible news. She tried to get her mind around it... and tried to listen to what Carter was saying as well... But all she heard was noise.  
  
"Luka is off saving the world and I'm stuck here trying to convince an AID's patient's HMO to-"  
  
Abby heard, and didn't hear Carter's words... One thought muffled all others in her brain. Rendered her unable to contemplate. Or hear. Or think.  
  
Luka. Dead.  
  
Like a caged animal, her thoughts paced back and forth. "Luka's dead" and "No, he can't be..." alternately repeating over in her head. For the briefest moment, she thought she might be sick. A slow, deep breath and she righted her battered equilibrium.  
  
Carter's face was a mask of twisted, angry pain. "What?....Abby -you're not listening, even now! -you, you...walk away, shut me out-"   
  
  
  
Turning to him she repeated mechanically , "Luka's dead."  
  
Abby had read the phrase in books, 'his face fell,' many times. She never bothered to think about how it looked when someone's face fell, but, she saw it demonstrated in front of her, right now. "Carter, he's dead...? How could he be... dead?"  
  
"I shouldn't have left him," barely audible, Carter, determined, turned purposefully, heading back into the hospital. 'Shwoop,' the sound of his almost empty coffee cup landing in the trash bin, echoed the 'swish' of the Emergency bay doors. "...should have stayed..."  
  
Panic rising in Abby's gut, she pushed through behind him, "Carter...? Carter... John! What are you doing...?"  
  
Looking in her direction, his eyes far away, Carter recited absentmindedly, "We have to get him out of there... it could be months- " Grabbing the phone, dialing automatically, "Kisangani-West Africa, please, US embassy..."  
  
Abby looked around the admin area. Shock and grief jockeyed for position on every face. Crossing behind the desk, Abby noticed Susan, her eyes red-rimmed but face under control, and tentatively approached her. "Are we sure -I mean, there's no mistake?"  
  
"Well, they have his badge, Abby, in the pile of personal items from the-" the word stuck in Susan's mouth, "...the, dead. So, it looks pretty grim. Why? Why on earth did he stay there?"  
  
"I don't know; he, uh, he just wanted to help..." Abby's voice trailed off.  
  
Hanging up the phone, Carter bolted from the admin desk, heading for the lounge.  
  
"Suz, I ... I'll be back..." Abby darted around the desk, attempting to head Carter off at the pass. "John? Did you find out anything?" Abby had to jog to match his long-limbed strides into the lounge.  
  
"I got a red-eye flight leaving from O'Hare tonight..." Swiftly Carter grabbed a forgotten gym bag, discarded it as too small, eyed another quickly and dumped the contents on the free bench.  
  
"What are you... what? You're going back?" The panic, again, rising in her, "John, you're - you can't!" Moving to grab his arm, "John, listen to me -he's dead, you can't expect to-"  
  
"Abby -I owe it to him to get his body out of there! I shouldn't have left him in the first place!" Shrugging her hand off his arm, Carter continued his rounds of the hospital supply rooms.  
  
"Doctor? What are you doing?" Kerry materialized in the window of drug lock-up.  
  
"I'll take an inventory, Kerry. I'll pay for everything." Distractedly, Carter continued piling sterile gauze, boxes of syringes, antibiotics into his pilfered bag.  
  
One bag hadn't enough room so Carter raced back to grab the second discarded bag. Boxes of latex gloves, laryngoscope, intubation trays... "Abby -grab that microscope!" he barked at her, in doctor/nurse mode now.  
  
Without thinking, she picked up the heavy piece of equipment and handed it to him, "Can you just slow down for just a minute- John? you... can you just wait-"  
  
His piracy complete, Carter headed once again for the Emergency door. "Abby- I'll call the hospital... when I can... When I get some information to pass..." But he was already rounding the walk.  
  
"Carter! Stop -can't you just wait... Wait! Until it's safer..?" Again, he shrugged Abby's hand off. Stopping, as Carter reached the street, Abby called out, " I can't keep doing this!" The tears, stinging the backs of her eyes, threatened to spill. This time, though, Abby couldn't stop them.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"I can't keep doing this!"  
  
For the briefest moment, Carter hesitated. He couldn't miss his plane, though. Had to go. He'd have to deal with Abby some other time. Shaking his head, ever so slightly, he pushed on. 'I can't keep doing it, either, Abby...' he thought, '... I have to find some way to get you out of my head....'  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
so loosen your hold  
  
though you might be frightened  
  
release or be caught  
  
if this be the right thing  
  
unable by thought  
  
to look what the tide brings in...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
*Weeks later*  
  
What a horrible, long, awful day. Abby started her shift with the new Residents. How lovely -docs who, in a few months time, would be treating Abby as if she were their own personal 'scut dog.' And she got to play tour guide for them.  
  
And she was chosen to monitor the Shark Cage all day. One of Weaver's changes. At least the Plexiglas cage prevented the patients from throwing up on you, before you were even able to complete the triage paperwork....  
  
Oh, and let's not forget the new nurses, insulting her in foreign tongues... When, oh, when were Heleh, Lydia and Connie coming back?- Oh, the joy! Oh, the rapture! Oh, the boiled pork blood... or whatever it was. Sure, it smelled good but Ugh! -she couldn't think about it, too long...  
  
At least, though, she didn't have time to think about that letter. Hand-delivered by Gillian -or "Jhillian" as Luka pronounced her name. Something more than friendship going on there, she guessed.... "Hah! Yeah, quite a bit more..." she laughed out loud to no one.... No one. "Alone again... naturally...." the words to the song floated to the edge of her consciousness...  
  
It was nice. Her talk with Luka. One good thing that came out of that damn letter.... She certainly wouldn't be offending anyone, NOW, if she had a friendship with Luka... And she genuinely cared for him. Felt for him. It was almost like they were the same person, sometimes, only in separate bodies.... Like her long-lost twin, or something.... Conjoined twins, now separated, but... able to breathe easier around each other, somehow...  
  
That damn letter. 'And, stupid, STUPID Abby, why'd you throw it away at work?' she pummeled herself. Of course, everyone had to take their turn reading it, right?.... Damn gossip mill. She changed her mind. She hated, HATED, gossip.   
  
"It's not you, it's me," Yeah. Right. Hadn't she said those same words to Richard? And she guessed Carter's TRUE meaning was along the same lines as her true meaning to Richard, too. Carter DID blame her. As surely as she blamed Richard -and, by the way...who wouldn't? the cheating, lying, money-stealing bast- Stop, it, Abby. Just stop. Water under the bridge...  
  
Briefly, the thought of a nice, warm, comforting drink blanketed her overtired mind... but -she was determined. She'd done it before. Stayed sober. For five years, even. She could (would!) do it again.  
  
Ahhhh.... man! She hated being an ER nurse. OB nursing was nice. All those perfect little babies. Sure, it was sad sometimes... But mostly, the patients were happy you were there. Not spitting at you or cursing you... Moot consideration, anyway, as Coburn didn't need her up there, and Abby didn't like the idea of scrounging around the OB departments at Mercy or Northwestern only to be busted back in seniority... and med school.  
  
Wait. Where did that thought come from? What about Med School? She hadn't given Med School more than a passing thought in over a year.  
  
She thought once again of Richard... the money for her tuition... He OWED her that. He did. And she just never bothered to collect. She just let life happen to her lately...   
  
When did she start doing that? Just passively accepting what ... ever. She hadn't been that way when she poured that first shot of tequila down the drain. When she had gotten herself to AA for the first time. When she made the decision to -FINALLY- leave Richard and stop allowing his sneaking around; his crappy treatment of her...   
  
She had been stronger when she quit drinking the first time. "....You don't need me.... You never did... You're stronger than you think you are..." Those words, from the damn letter. Carter's letter... Came back to haunt her.   
  
"No, John... I'm not strong. I thought I could be everything my family needed me to be and I thought I could become everything you wanted me to be.... but I wasn't strong enough for that." Picturing him in her mind, Abby let the words roll out of her heart, uninhibited, for the first time. " I love you, John, but I'm not what you want. I'm not who you thought I was." The tears rolled down her face. She had been allowing herself to cry, lately. Felt kind of good, actually. She reached over to the ashtray and stubbed out her cigarette.  
  
Out of the blue, Abby thought of the little song from Toy Story... "no, it can't be true... I could fly if I wanted to... like a bird in the sky... if I believe I can fly... why, I'll fly......" She loved Randy Newman... ever since "Short People." She should be offended! She was short! She laughed, a little, at the thought...  
  
She could try to go back to Med School. She could. If she believed she could fly.... Hah! Silly, really! Damn kid's movie... And what if - what if she didn't make it? What then, huh?  
  
Oh, man- "I really AM tired..." she said out loud, stifling a yawn... Mind, dulled now. Can't think anymore... Gotta go to bed. "Night, Carter," she said to no one.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Author's note:  
  
The song lyric is from South's Loosen Your Hold. Great song... made me think of these two. It's about letting go, Abby. Figure out where your head is and your heart will follow. Carter? Well... we've dispatched the Congolese branch of our little leg-breaking group... We'll tear ya down; but we'll build ya back up, don't worry.... 


	8. Pendulum Swings

~**Author's Note: **~  
  
Well, it's pretty self-explanatory that I'm following the spoilers for the show, at this point. I don't necessarily know if I'll be going the same direction as what airs... But, for now, this story is pretty dangerous territory for anyone wanting to remain unspoiled. So be forwarned. It may not be exact -but there is enough in here, it may ruin the viewing for you, if you read.  
  
~**~ I make not one claim to any of these characters. I did not create them. I just want to play with them for a while.~**~  
  
~**~ They belong to NBC, ER, the WB... Yeah. Everyone BUT me, heh! But I promise to take good care of them.~**~  
  
~**~ If I lost anyone with the last chapter... well, come back -we can't always hit it outta the park, but that doesn't mean we're outta the game...~**~  
  
And now, with no further adieu...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Debbie was cool. At first it was hard to get to know her, but after awhile, she grew on him... or, closer to the truth, HE grew on HER. She was laid back; fun to be around. Laughed easily. Never seemed to let the little things get her down. Debbie was..... Effortless.  
  
Not like- Yeah.   
  
There was something to be said for not having to work so hard to communicate with someone. (although, he and Abby didn't always have to work so hard....) Of course, Debbie didn't know him like she did. Didn't know about the stabbing; the attendant addiction... Didn't coax out of him his most private thoughts. Didn't challange him to... to give. Give until it hurt. Didn't try to protect him.   
  
And dammit! That was good. (wasn't it?) He didn't need to be protected. He wanted to be the protector. Or, better yet, he just wanted to BE. Debbie let him do that.  
  
Sleep still occasionally eluded him; and, when it did, he found himself thinking of... of her. Comfortably prone, on an uncomfortable mat, he'd think of the whisps of hair in her eyes and have to fight the urge to mentally reach up and brush them from her face... He wanted to touch her face. Feel her body. But, he didn't have that right. She wasn't his anymore. He set her free. And, as the weeks passed, the pain dulled. The 'thud' of his heart quieted. Amidst the chaos of his new, temporary home, his mind found solace. His emotions smoothed out; his sinew lengthened. He was, dare he say it? At peace. At peace amidst the wild things...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Taking a deep drag of her cigarette, Abby pondered her entrance into the building. This was... embarrassing. It was the only word she could produce, to explain the way she was feeling. Thursday, she was the charge nurse for her shift. After three days off, she was returning. As a med student. To her place of business. This wasn't going to work. Simply -no one would accept her as a med student, again. Malik, Chuny -hell, the whole nursing staff would view her as a traitor. She had stumbled (No. Strode purposefully!) back over to "the dark side."  
  
Heh. Richard. She did stride purposefully, didn't she? Walked right up to his door and asked for what she wanted. And, miraculously, he agreed. It felt good. It felt really good to follow through on something. Even if that something was simply asking her ex to co-sign her school loan. He owed it to her. She held down the full-time job (and a part-time one!) while he went to med school. All the while, promising her turn would come....  
  
Still, trepidation almost overcame her triumph. Fear of what to expect... Wondering if she still had the drive to complete this race.... She hoped they'd just give her a break in the ER -not make too big a deal of her status change...  
  
And, luckily, she was on surgery rotation. Surely she wouldn't have to spend much time in the ER... Surely? But she was assigned to Elizabeth and -holy crap!- that woman could be a real... Well, let's just say, she learned well from Benton.  
  
So, this was going to be a very interesting day.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Life was good. He was helping people. Making a difference. Just as he intended. Angelique was an invaluable resource in field medicine. And, she was helping him with his French. She was a terrific, uncomplicated friend.  
  
Charles, who never missed an opportunity to rub his nose in Luka's legendary prowess with "the ladies," became his invaluable ally. Tutoring him in every aspect of the culture. Keeping him from making a fool of himself. Charles became his lifeline. And his social director. Contrary to what he had originally believed, a night life was actually to be had, in the Congo. And Charles pointed the way.  
  
Every night, when they could get away from the clinic, they would tiredly make their way to the little cafe. He didn't think it even had a name. If it did, no one of his acquaintance knew it... Angelique called it the "Cafe Americaines" to make fun of him. He was one of a handful of Americans at the little watering hole. He would listen to their political jabs and feign umbrage... but really? He didn't care. Let them put down America. America was big enough -she could handle it. Debbie would glance his way and roll her eyes... He would look heavenward and cluck his tongue... It was becoming a nightly ritual. A ritual with which he was becoming increasingly more comfortable. And anyway... He was feeling more and more apolitical the longer he stayed.  
  
Somewhere along the way, he realized that this was it. This is where he belonged. He wasn't going back. And almost immediately, he felt the familiar pang in his heart as his mind snagged on Abby. Three months gone by like a flash, and he still thought of her almost daily. The pain was dulled, yes, but thoughts of her still plagued him.  
  
He found himself wondering what she was doing. Right now. Sometimes his thoughts of her made his face flush. He still wanted her. Imagined her in his mind; in his his arms... his bed. And the fear. The fear that, with Luka back in Chicago...   
  
This was the point at which he willfully stopped his mind from wandering. It was his choice to let her go. He told her not to wait for him... He had no right to will her not to choose someone else. And if she did choose Luka...?  
  
Well. Luka was a lucky man, then...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Abby. Abby? Abby, wake up... Abby! Accent on first syllable; slight lilt at the end; thick Croatian accent... Yep. That was Luka's voice, alright.  
  
"I'm up... I'm up, I'm up, I'm up!" she murmered lightly. Taking a nursing shift occasionally in the ER, entwined with med school, meant that sleep took the back seat...   
  
"Would you like me to get you a cup of coffee?" His brow knitted slightly, Luka looked the picture of concern.  
  
"No... no thank you... I'll pick up a cup at the 'New and Improved' Roach Coach.... and a paper while I'm at it...." Half muttering, half musing; throwing the thin blanket off her legs, she stumbled off the narrow gurney.  
  
"It's no trouble, I'm on my way..." Ever since she'd gotten the letter, Luka seemed determined to treat her with kid gloves. It was endearing, mostly. But, embarrassing when anyone else (Susan!) noticed.  
  
"What are you doing, Abby?" Susan would prod her with questions. Are you and Luka... you know? He's hot, Abby.... You could certainly do worse... You know what they say about love the second time around.... Do you think this is it? I mean, is this it for you and Carter...? You don't owe him anything, right? He went off and left. You stayed...  
  
Yeah. He left; Abby stayed. And as forward as her professional life moved; she felt stuck, personally. She stayed, right where she was when he walked away. Luka was sweet, really, and she supposed she loved him. 'But I'm not IN love with him...' So, she tried to be just his friend... Not take anything from him that hinted of impropriety. Didn't want to entangle herself in that loop again. She hadn't the time, anyway. Even if she felt she had the time for a relationship... She and Luka had both moved on. They were friends. And she wasn't about to muck up another good friendship for the sake of security in her bed.  
  
"Abby? So -you are set for java?" Peering at her from heavy-lidded eyes, he smiled slightly. Abby couldn't help but notice that, Yes. He was very easy on the eyes... She certainly could do worse. Heh.  
  
"Yep. Thanks, Luka. Oh! -and thanks for waking me, too..." He really is a good guy, Abby mused.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It came out of nowhere, really... Hit him right in the gut. Reminded him of the way he felt when he walked into the lounge and found Greene, Weaver and... and Abby; waiting for him. This night started the same as most every night since he came back to the Congo. Beckoned again to the Cafe Americaines after an impossibly hard clinic day, Carter felt his feet heavy on the cobbled walkway. He didn't really feel like hanging out tonight...  
  
"What'cha doing, John?" Debbie sidled up next to him.  
  
Kissing her on the cheek, he muttered, "Ah, nuttin much, how 'bout you?" Same exchange, every night... It comforted him, knowing Debbie didn't expect more. Just ... whatever it was they were doing, was fine with her...  
  
"I was thinking about goin' on in to the Cafe AmeriCANZ and getting plastered as I listen to the others lambaste my country's foreign policy for a while... You?" she joked good-naturedly.  
  
Smiling, John took her hand, comfortably, and walked her into the cafe... "Yeah, let's go get cowed, shall we?"  
  
Making their way through the sultry, yet jubilant atmosphere, they sat down, simultaneously in their now-familiar chairs. Greetings made the round of the table... Conversations weaved in and amongst them... And then he saw her. And this, this is when he felt the blow to his gut.  
  
A new, very poised, very beautiful face. He was struck, hell, thunderstruck by her beauty. Exotic, the first word that popped into his mind. He stammered a greeting and, then, the conversation engulfed him and Debbie. No time for anyone to take any notice of the affect this woman's remarkable appearance had on him.  
  
As usual, the topic was American foreign policy... "It always seems to come back to this' he thought, amused. And Beauty had brains, too. Almost too late, Carter realized she was addressing him, something about American pharmaceuticals and the high cost... Thinking quickly, he threw in, "Ah, but Doctors like freebies as much as the next guy...!"  
  
The briefest pause, and then her eyes twinkled. Whew! She understood and appreciated his comment for the ironic humor he intended... He didn't want to offend this woman. Or, apparantly, stop looking at her. She was striking.  
  
"John Carter, MD - meet Makemba Likasu, she is running an HIV/AIDS ARV demonstration project..." Debbie, oblivious to this woman's affect on him, obligingly made the introductions. "And this is Peter- I don't know what he does..." She winked at Makemba's "friend."  
  
"I am with the Ministry of Finance..." He winked back.  
  
"Nice to meet you... both." Simultaneously prying his eyes off Makemba and taking Peter's hand. "You're using the triple cocktail, here in Africa?" Carter glanced again at Makemba, while taking her hand. "Isn't that prohibitively expensive?"  
  
"Yes, it is, actually" Her gorgeous eyes flashed.  
  
"This is what I am trying to tell her... Where my department comes in to the argument... We don't have this money..." Moving in closer, Peter draped his arm discreetly across Makemba's shoulders.  
  
"Peter thinks I should still be in the villages, handing out condoms..." Eyes blazing now, "Meanwhile, millions of Africans die..."  
  
"But it would cost, what, $15,000 US every year to treat each patient using the triple cocktail...?" Carter halted, mentally doing the math, "ahuh!... that would be more than I can multiply in my head..." grabbing a napkin, "uh, fifteen thou a year times -what is the estimated number of Africans infected with the virus..? Twenty-four million and... damn. That would be over $360 mil-"  
  
"We aren't using the name-brand pharmaceuticals... developed with American money..." she interrupted mildly.  
  
"But... well, what are you using, then..?" Carter was puzzled. He'd just met this woman and he was captivated by her. She was razor sharp, quick-witted and ... well, the obvious. Absolutely ravishing.  
  
"We are using a generic, fixed-dose combination of the usual -lamivudine, stavudin, nevirapine. The patent is currently held in South Africa. We are very fortunate to be getting this generic. One pill twice daily, at a cost of .36 cents a day per person..." She glanced around the table impassively, "This, Dr. John Carter, MD," she emphasized 'MD' ".. is what our trial is using..."   
  
"Oh, listen - I love this song! Charles, dance with me..." Angelique, smiled at the table, "Come on -enough politics, let's dance!"  
  
Peter led Makemba to the floor. Twirling around him, Makemba glanced Carter's way, caught his eye, and gave him a slow, meaningful smile...  
  
"They're playing our song, Carter" Debbie stood and proffered her hand to him, laughing, "or providing a nice out from that intense conversation...."  
  
'You have no idea,' he mused. No idea whatsoever.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Author's Ramblings:  
  
I don't like Makemba Likasu. Don't like her one bit. She is beautiful, smart, self-possessed... Confident. Yup, a real head-turner. She is one dangerous cookie for my Carter/Abby hopes to bear. But ... tptb (and Carter) are determined to have her and so, I must acquiesce. But. I can make of her what I will, can't I? Oh, and I shall... I shall..... 


	9. Still Life

Author's Note: This is a shorty. Hope you enjoy.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Casually draped in the hallway outside of Trauma Yellow, Luka stared at the words on the page in front of him. He was jealous. Jealous, once again, of Carter. This time, though, for entirely different reasons. And this time, the jealousy was mild; good-natured. Carter was in Congo, still, and Luka was at County. Suffering through the red tape, and the madness... With the exuberance of youth, Carter described to Luka the changes which were transforming him from a complacent, unaware citizen of one country to a globally aware citizen of the world. Chuckling to himself, Luka reflected on the parallel strangness of his developing friendship with a man he could barely countenance in the not-too-distant past.  
  
"I never thought I would find myself, full-time, in any country other than the States, much less Africa. It's changing my life in all the right ways, Luka. And, I guess I have you to thank. You know, I always thought that you were trying to get me out of County, off to a foreign country, so that I'd be away from Abby, and you could make your move... I guess I owe you an apology for that, yes? Bygones, I hope... I owe you a debt of gratitude. I truly was lost. But I think I may have found my calling."  
  
The sight of Abby's name caused Luka's eyes to dart up involuntarily, searching the hallway for her. He knew what no one else would see. She was happier than he'd seen her, ever. Back in med school, putting her family in proper perspective... all the things he'd wished for her; she and she, alone, was accomplishing. For herself, not for anyone else. But something fundamental had shifted in her eyes. Where once shone dissatisfaction, unhappiness, Abby's eyes now held the glow of something Luka recognized in his own eyes a lifetime ago. Bittersweet, and lovely, Abby's eyes displayed accepted loss. Grieving, silently and gracefully, cast her in lovely soft focus. Open, guileless -at least, he thought, with him -her face smoothed of care... Questions, he supposed, finally answered; put to rest. Taking the worry and stress from her bare face. She was simply ravishing. More beautiful than he had ever imagined her.  
  
When he noticed her in the halls his heart swelled with pride for her. He truly was happy that she seemed happy... But, he knew, a part of her was hurt; open and bleeding. Yet she carried on. This image of her toiling away amidst her pain; bearing the heartache with grace, still able to laugh, even... toyed with his imagination. He was a romantic. Although he would never admit that to anyone. But deep down, where it really counted? He was his father's son. The son of a painter... Almost an actor, too -had the irresistable call of medicine not torn him from that passion... Yes... In his heart of hearts, he was a romantic. And Abby -who had long plagued his imagination anyway- bittersweet and softer, open and guileless... engaged his thoughts... inspired daydreams in him.... Shuddering a little, Luka determinedly went back to the letter.  
  
"...may have found my calling. I don't know. For the first time in a long time, I feel I'm in a good place. No complications... No grey areas. Just -the needs and the needs fulfilled as best we can. No sleepless nights. No ethical dilemmas... It is good for the soul. Is this why you volunteer so often? As a matter of fact, the only aspect of this I am not completely comfortable with is the way I left things with Abby."  
  
Involuntarily, Luka's eyes quickly darted up, again. This time, however, he noticed her in triage. He glanced back at the letter,  
  
"...with Abby. I have no right to ask, and certainly no right to ask you, of all people... but you also know her better than anyone there. Luka, how is she? I don't really take the time to write anyone -Susan sent me some Halloween candy and a note. But, I haven't written her and asked and she's probably in solidarity with Abby anyway. Probably wouldn't tell me anything. I just want to know, I guess -is she okay?"  
  
Reading between the lines, Luka suspected that Carter was asking after Abby's drinking. 'Dammit, Carter,' he thought, 'take care of your own life...' he looked at her again, smiling to himself, 'she can take care of herself, just fine. Even better alone, than she did with EITHER of us...' he mused.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Author's Ramblings:  
  
I hope you enjoyed... If you did, would you tell me? If you didn't... would you tell me? (Especially if you didn't! -constructive criticism is good; helps to become a better writer!) And thank you! In advance.... 


	10. Call it Good

Call it Good  
  
Oh, man. This was not good. Not good at all... This woman was engulfing his senses. Everything about her was... intoxicating, and he was powerless, POWERLESS, to override her influence. He let the syringe drop carefully into the waste bin and then, slowly, glanced up, (over the filmy fabric covering her thighs) up, (the thin, perfect waist) up, (the delicate curve of her throat) into her deep, mysterious eyes. This wasn't infatuation. This was sorcery; this effect she had on him.  
  
"...and, now we are finished up here, we can go get something to eat, John- John, are you listening to me?" Kem chided him mildly. Recognition at exactly where his eyes were roaming lit her gaze, "And just what do you think you are doing, John Carter, M.D.?" She smiled slowly, teasingly.  
  
Caught off guard, yet again, Carter stammered, "I, well... we just, uh..." He let out his breath in a guilty laugh, "Yes... Kem! Let's go get something to eat, shall we?" His laughter dispelled any discomfort between them, "...and see -you thought I didn't hear you! You should give me more credit, Kem -I have more than a one-track mind..."  
  
Before either of them had any time to think, Carter's arms snaked around Kem's perfect waist and caught her in an embrace. He bent his head to capture her lips; resistant at first, her lips melted slowly into his. Carter's mind was ablaze with all thought and none, simultaneously. 'You can't do this, You can't do this...' his mind chastised him. But, like a powerful drug, this woman had been plaguing him for weeks. This kiss; the first kiss, had been hunting around both of them for so long. Kem did not disappoint his swollen expectation, either. She was soft and enticing; exotic... And she tasted good. Like mint tea. And her eyes. Just the place -for an expat doc, running from his family and ... other people- to get lost.  
  
When it ended... softly and slowly just as it had begun, Carter looked deep into those eyes... "Well... and how powerful, actually, IS Peter?" he laughed, but then noticed that Kem had stiffened in his arms. She pushed back and turned her attention on the cot, cleaning up the remainder of her supplies.  
  
"We will not speak of Peter, John." she sharply spat at him. "He is, indeed, very powerful. And very possessive. And I don't find your insouciant American humor appropriate-"  
  
"Wait.. just a minute... what are you, Kem- what are you saying here...?" Floundering, unhinged from the foundation of that kiss, regaining proper sense, Carter stammered, "Kem! I'm sorry - I don't know what came over me, but ... I have peop- I have things to think about here, too. I'm, this was just some... some temporary lapse of sense, I'm not going to .. make some kind of public declaration, here..." What. What had he just done?  
  
"John, you kissed me; I didn't approach you, you approached me... I don't know what game you're-"  
  
Cutting her off, he was beginning to get angry, "I don't play games, Kem. I've had enough games to last a lifetime." Was this a game? He felt pulled to this woman physically. But it was just that; physical. She was, simply, the most beautiful woman he'd ever come in contact with and her affect on him was alchemy. Nothing more. Just... an irresistibly beautiful woman with gorgeous eyes, and soft kissable lips and .... 'Stop it. Just stop,' again his mind attempted to reign him in. "I am sorry, Kem." Hurculean effort, to keep from falling under her spell again, "I, it's just... I think you are incredibly beautiful. I thought you were issuing an invitation... and I think... I guess I have poor impulse control ..." he lamely finished.  
  
For a few tense moments, Kem silently went about her work. About to give up hope, Carter opened his mouth to further apologize, when Kem spoke softly, "You are forgiven, John Carter, MD." her glance stony, "I like you... I really do. You are very tolerable," a small smile in his direction, "...and I think your kiss was sweet, really." she was teasing him, "...like a little boy, kissing his first crush..." her eyes were twinkling now.  
  
"Ow.... that ... hurt, Kem! So beautiful, but so cruel..." Carter, grabbing his chest, exhaled, finally, "...well... as long as I'm so harmless," stressing the last word, "then I guess there'll be no harm in kissing me again...?" checking her reaction, "No? Ah, well... I guess it's all for the best, really...."  
  
Her eyes shone, then, "John, you are so graceful in losing... Maybe a consolation prize for you, then?" Kem's tone was light but not without meaning.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Abby was getting the hang of this stuff... Falling right back into med school routine. Except for the freaking "school" part. It didn't help that Romano rode her like a rough-rider. Bare-back. 'I mean, damn! What's his problem?' she thought. Abby toyed with the idea of fashioning a Romano-head dart board in the doc's lounge... But, hey, why incur further wrath... He'd already been targeting her, right? No sense in adding insult to injury.  
  
Besides, the guy had been through enough. In spite of how harsh he was to her, Romano had lost a great deal... and Abby understood loss. And how it can change you. So, just because he was nasty to her, didn't mean she had to be nasty back. He'd get over his fixation on her and move on to a new victim soon enough... She had only to bide her time.  
  
Sitting in the lounge, Abby practiced her sutures on the preserved pig's foot... 'Just like Benton used to do...' she thought. She recalled Carter relating that to her, sniggering; could see the laugh-lines around his eyes in her mind. A pang shot through her heart. 'I wonder what he's doing today; right now.' But he hadn't communicated with her and she had basically told him he shouldn't have come back... And now, he was gone. Again.  
  
Still, she missed him.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"So. Who is this Abby?" Kem teased him.  
  
Split second of "deer-in-the-headlights" and out it stammered, "She... she's a ... uh, a friend... at least I hope she still is..." Handled that one well, ya idiot. Try for humor, "Why? You jealous?"  
  
"Mmmm. Maybe.." She smiled, tossing the gift carelessly on the bed. He detected a slight tension in the air. Uh-oh, maybe he did blow it... Then she stunned him, "I think I might be pregnant."  
  
Okay... wait. What...? He felt the air rush out of his chest... and then... pride? Happiness? He didn't... He couldn't quite... Rational thought just wasn't going to be coaxed... "How...? Uh.. when...?" Kem's quizzical look refreshed his memory, "Oh...yeah..."  
  
"Are you mad?" Vulnerable... just a touch of ... defiance.  
  
"Are you... are you going to ... to have it?" He gingerly poked around.  
  
"I don't know... I ... thought I'd be unhappy... but I'm not..." she spoke softly; he had to strain to hear her.  
  
"How long have we known each other...?" he laughed out.  
  
"Six minutes..." she shot back, her nose wrinkled.  
  
"Six weeks..." he quickly corrected. He pondered his time with her... here. It, strangely, felt right... "Do you want to have a baby..?" Carter prodded her directly, this time.  
  
"Do you?" She shot back, almost, but not too quickly.  
  
"I asked you first..." This was frightening. And... exciting. He couldn't put it into eloquent words but he felt like he always did when the trauma doors opened; the paramedics shouting words in all directions, staff quickly dispersing... It was almost ... exhilarating...  
  
She seemed to waver a moment, then fixed her gaze straight on him and uttered, "I'm really in trouble here..."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Turning on the overhead lamp, Carter shuddered, involuntarily. So much has happened in so little time... Seven months ago... he walked out of County; frustrated, confused... disillusioned... And now? Everything seemed to have fallen right into place. He was coming back a changed man. Yes. He was changed. For the better. From now on, he knew where, and with whom, he would be. A baby. His baby. A family... Another shudder. Was it cold in this airplane, or what? He glanced at Kem, already sleeping. He... he loved her. He did. And she was so beautiful; so confident. Full of fire, but in a good way. And she loved him. He settled into the seat and put his head back... A smile tentatively alighting his face...  
  
It was going to be fine, now... just fine. 


	11. Welcome Back

Author's Note: This is my version...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Why so pensive?" The familiar voice penetrated her thoughts.  
  
Before conscious thought rendered her mute, Abby responded to their silly, private joke, "Oh, nothing... just thinkin." Simultaneously, the realization hit her. Carter. Her eyes involuntarily dropped from the wall; the spot at which she'd just been staring. Turning her head slowly, Abby took in Carter's lanky frame -made even thinner by sparse rations on which he'd been living. "Carter," steadying her voice, "how are you?"  
  
"Fine. I'm fine Abby... How've you been -" clearing his voice, "Susan wrote me- you're back in med school... How, how're you doing?" Quickly, his eyes darted to the floor.  
  
"Oh.... heh-" scrunching her nose, "if I make it through, it will be nothing short of a miracle...." A quick glance revealed concern in Carter's eyes, "No... no -just kidding... I'm fine, doing fine, really!" Laughing a little to reassure him, she repeated, "Really, Carter -I'm fine! You don't need to worry about me...." Any more, she thought.   
  
A slight, dangerous glimmer darkened his gaze for the briefest moment, and was gone. Carter stood staring at her for a moment, gave a slight shake of his head, and said, "Well... um, good luck, Abby... I-" his voice cracking slightly, Carter cleared his throat again, "I know you'll make a great doctor... I don't think I ever told you. But... I, well -" He looked down the hall, then back to her, "You will."  
  
At a loss for words, Abby mechanically mumbled, "Thank you... Carter." Shuffling notes in her lap, Abby feigned busyness, "Now, I better hit the books again. Or I really WILL need a miracle!"  
  
Carter nodded, started out the door, stopped briefly, thought better of it and walked out.  
  
Letting out a heavy sigh, Abby cradled her head in her arms. Well, that went well. Heh... She had heard that he might be back. Prayed that it was just vicious rumor. But, no. The real article, John Carter himself, had just wished her well in med school. And told her she would make a good doctor. That was new.  
  
Somewhere, she'd heard that he wasn't working at County anymore. Wonder what he's doing here? she thought. Susan, she knew, had been keeping in touch with him. She tried to be a very good, very neutral friend... And Abby appreciated the rock and hard place position in which this ... situation?... placed Susan. But, Abby thought she, herself, would be a little more aware of what was going on in Carter's life... He did almost, well... they were almost, uh, yeah... But... not a word from the horse's mouth. And Susan was behaving strangely for two solid days. Abby could swear it seemed Susan was actually... avoiding her.  
  
"Abby, I, uh... there's a shortage, um -nurses.. Abby could you give me a hand in... uh -" Flushed-faced and distracted, Susan uncharacteristically stammered, urgently to Abby, "please. Now! Help!"  
  
Closing her book resignedly, Abby pushed the chair back with her legs, stood and stretched. This was the trouble with training as a med student in the same hospital at which she had practiced nursing; people constantly expected her to perform nursing duties when she was wearing her med student hat... "Really, Susan... I don't have my big superhero cape today, I'm actu-"  
  
"Abby, hurry -I need a hand RIGHT NOW!" Susan was really agitated.  
  
Okay. "Okay, sure... I'm right behind you, then..." What was with her? Susan never pulled rank... But, okay. "Let me just put my books up so-"  
  
"NO! NOW!" shot out of Susan's mouth, and then, "Abs -I'm sorry, but it's just that... would you just -please? Now..."  
  
Pushing her urgently, Susan almost ran over Abby... Wow, must be some major trauma, thought Abby... Or -no. They aren't throwing a surprise party, for me? For going back to school? Nah. They would know. KNOW she hated tha-  
  
"Over here -this.. uh, this... Here -here it is!" Susan picked up a film, rushing Abby around the corner to the light box. "I wanted your opinion... As a senior nurse... Um, you need to look at this. And, ah, it's very interesting from a teaching standpoint, too..."  
  
They almost made it, but, too late, the doors to the elevator opened and standing there, next to Carter (very, very next to Carter, she thought) was a very beautiful, evidently pregnant (about... 17 weeks, Abby guesstimated) very poised woman. Gazing at Carter. Glowingly. For a moment the room spun, and, although Susan and Carter were both talking, Abby couldn't make out a word. They seemed to be speaking through some sort of filter, making their speech wholly unintelligable.  
  
"Oh. Uh..." Just as she thought she might pass out on the floor, the speech centers in her brain kicked in and she blurted out, "Excuse me -hah, I'm standing right in your path, I'll get out of your.... I have..." before she lost it entirely, Abby turned quickly toward the ladies room. Faintly she heard Susan calling her name, but fight or flight instinct drove her. Mercifully, a door appeared; without thought Abby pushed through.  
  
In the quiet of the stall, Abby sat, hands clasped over her mouth. Trying desperately not to make any noise, she let the sobs quake her shoulders.  
  
"Abby? You in here?" Susan's voice pierced the hollow room. "I'm sorry! Please? I tried to, to... Oh, I don't know..." her voice trailed off, "Abby are you okay? Standing right outside her stall, Susan tapped her fingers lightly on the door, "Abs? You still talking to me?"  
  
"I'm fine, Susan... fine.." Knowing she couldn't stay in the stall, Abby unlocked the stall door, gently pushing it open with her foot. Almost losing her balance, she shot her arms out to keep from plunging into the toilet, cutting her arm on the paper dispenser at the same time. "Shit! ow,oW, OW- that HURT!"  
  
Jumping toward the sink, Susan grabbed handfuls of paper towels and quickly wetted them. Handing them to Abby, she blurted, "Oh, god- you're going to need stitches!" Catching Abby's eye, she then burst into nervous laughter. "Oh, Abby -I'm sorry! I, look -don't worry, I... I'll hate Carter with you. okay?"  
  
Normally, Susan's good nature cheered Abby. It was probably comical, the sight of Abby flailing to keep from falling into the toilet... but she couldn't dredge up any feeling, anything that hinted at mirth; not now. Not this time.  
  
"Suz, I know that was probably really funny... But I, I can't... You know? I just, right now... I'm going to the on-call room -okay? Can you just-" voice dropping to a whisper, "...can you run interference for me... just for a bit? Till I can get my mind around ... you know..."  
  
Susan's head nodded furiously, "Yes, yes -Abby go... I'll send Neela in to help you suture-"  
  
"No," Abby cut her off, ".. uh, no thanks -I can get it myself... probably just needs a butterfly, anyway..." Trying to fight new tears, she let her eyes drop to the floor, "I'd really appreciate... I don't think I can face anyone right now..."  
  
"Ohhh...kay... then," she wrinkled her nose at Abby, "but you better not sue me later..." Taking another look at Abby's arm, Susan looked up, "You sure you're going to be okay?" At Abby's nod, Susan gave her shoulder a little pep-talk squeeze while sliding out the door. "And, Abby? I just found out a couple a days ago, myself... I'm sorry I didn't give you a heads up... uuuh, -Doctor, patient confidentiality... or... some other lame excuse..." Susan backed out with a weak smile.  
  
As the door snapped shut, Abby looked into the mirror... Okay. So, this was a total blindside, right? No mention. From anyone... No one thought to give her the slightest warning that Carter was due to come in today... and with a BIG surprise. Remembering the look on his face in the lounge earlier and the glimpse she caught as he was standing in the elevator... Abby realized that this was... this was serious. Gripping the edges of the lavatory, she pushed her face closer to the mirror. Held up her arm, looked at the gash... This was... Carter really HAD moved on... "Boy, has he!" she snorted... The laughter caught her by surprise. Almost as quickly, a deep sob wracked her frame. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she waited for the tears to pass.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I'm Med Student, today. Get Severa..." Quickly making her way to the lounge, Abby responded to the slightly befuddled Morris. Backing into the lounge door, she missed Luka by centimeters. "Oh- geez, Luka, I'm sorry! I was trying to ditch that shmuck Morris... always trying to get the nurses to do his job..." Still reeling from the blinding vision at the elevator, Abby dodged Luka's eyes. Didn't trust herself; too easy to fall into distressed damsel mode with him...  
  
"It's okay, Abby, I am learning to dodge bullets," Abby winced at the reminder of how they almost lost him. Luka, oblivious, puffed out his chest in mock superhero style, "the lounge door cannot hurt me..."  
  
"D'you wanna get some coffee? I switch teams in about," pausing to check her watch, "in about an hour and a half..." Finally trusting herself to look up at him, "We could talk about the uh, the Congo, or something..." she added, to further persuade him.  
  
He considered her for a moment, and then, slowly, "You alright, Abby? You look a little... not yourself..." At her assurance, Luka's concern seemed assuaged, and he agreed to the cup of coffee. "I just have to check in at the shark cage, ok?" He added, "Let them know I'm not flying the coop..."  
  
Abby suppressed absured amusement at the mix of metaphors, "That's fine, Luka... I'll walk with you." she shook off the remnants of the earlier encounter, "I can't study anymore, anyway."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Where was his head. Between the news that Kem was having a baby and the rush to get her to Chicago -where the prenatal care was better- he just wasn't thinking. About anything else. Of course, if he brought Kem back to County, they stood a pretty good chance of running into Abby. Somehow, in the rush of falling for Kem and finding out about the baby -'My baby,' he thought- Carter neglected to factor in the Abby... situation. The thing was, he and Kem happened so fast he didn't have time... or, the RIGHT time, to tell Kem about Abby. Not really, anyway. And, he hadn't exactly been corresponding with Abby, either.  
  
He almost told her. Standing in the door to the lounge. Hesitated just the briefest moment... but he... well, he couldn't. Just couldn't bring himself to tell her right there. Just the two of them. He didn't trust himself, like that. And so, he didn't.  
  
Carter squinted his eyes shut tight. Could see Abby's shocked face as the elevator doors opened. He knew that everything else...the proposal that wasn't, his leaving for Africa without even discussing it with her, twice...every way he'd hurt her thus far, was small beans compared to... to this.   
  
But, it was finished, though. That much was true. He had moved on. So had she. This was just salt in the wound; nothing more. Carter knew that Abby might be shocked but that she would quickly get over it. She was done with him a long time before he finally gave up on her.   
  
But Abby didn't like surprises and he knew, knew right when he saw her face as the elevator doors opened, that he should have told her. When they were alone. Faced the coldness, the icy ambivalence. It was better than... better than her shocked and bewildered face, staring at him uncomprehendingly. He just... just didn't want to do that to her. She didn't like surprises...  
  
"Kem?" Throwing the door open quickly, Carter heard his own voice, as if coming from someone else.  
  
"I couldn't wait. Look! Isn't he beautiful?" Positively beaming, she looked more beautiful than the very first night he laid eyes on her. Pregnancy suited some women; made them more than gorgeous. It was this way with Kem.  
  
"Any neural tube defects?" Again, his own voice sounded almost wooden to his ears. 'Where are you Carter?' his mind prodded.  
  
"No, everything looks fine... Ten fingers, toes; heart, lungs -all look fine... developing on schedule..." Dr. Yamata assured.  
  
"It's a boy... Your son." Tears rimmed her eyes, now.  
  
"A son..." His son. For a moment, Carter felt the room lurch. This was all so... unreal. So unbelievably... real. "I have to get back downstairs... you can find your way back..?"  
  
"Yes, John Carter, MD -I am quite able to get to the Emergency Department by myself..." Her eyes were glowing, now, as she gently chided him. "Go, they need you more than I do..."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
She knew, now. Knew that everyone else knew. God, she felt so... exposed. How could he do this to her? How could he let her be the last one to know? If she doubted everything else they ever shared, the one thing Abby never doubted was their friendship.   
  
Until now.  
  
The walk to the shark cage reminded her of that time, right after Maggie made her first appearance. The dawning realization that everyone knew she had a crazy mom... and were simultaneously pitying her and wondering when she would wack out and start flailing at them, too. Oh, she hated this. This... pity. It made her even more determined to hold her head up and never let them see her sweat. Ever.  
  
One thing Abby couldn't stand, was to be pitied.  
  
Of course, she and Luka didn't make it to the cafeteria. Of course, they ran smack into Carter and ... sheesh! Abby didn't even know her damn name!  
  
"...this must be Kem," she heard Luka say. Abby watched, astonished, as Kem and Luka kissed each other, like long-lost pals, on each cheek. European style. Abby suppressed the urge to laugh, uncontrollably. This was surreal. If it wasn't so uncomfortable she WOULD be laughing...  
  
"I'm pleased to meet you," her mouth said. Abby felt thirteen. And then the ... the sonogram photo... Wanting to run, Abby forced herself to face this... face him. He had moved on. But so had she. Still, it was like some excruciating party... all bad small talk and too-tight clothes...  
  
After what seemed an hour, Carter glanced in Abby's direction and lightly said, "I better get back to work... Walk you out?" directed at Kem. An uncomfortable glance at Abby and they headed out the door.  
  
"I, uh... they got together after I left..." Luka obviously felt the need to explain, " She runs an AIDS trial in Kinshasa..." and then, "Abby, are you okay?"   
  
Poor Luka. Left with the toxic spill clean up duty. Well, she would make it quick and painless. "Fine... I'm fine..." After a beat, though, she couldn't resist the little dig..."Well, what'd he do? Knock her up the minute he got there?" Quick glance at Luka. Okay. Maybe quick and painFUL.  
  
"You going home, Abby?" Luka was uncomfortable and she didn't want that... she wanted... heh. She didn't know what she wanted.  
  
"No...no ... I'm going to the on call room... Heh, same thing..." Abby let her voice trail off.  
  
Done in. She was... just... tired. So, so tired.... Needed...   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Author's Ramblings: Real Life. It gets in the way of creative pursuits, sometimes. I shall try to remedy that. 


	12. Carry On My Wayward Son

Carry on, my wayward son...  
  
Author's Note:  
  
I can't possibly hope to top or equal NICU, so... I won't. Just mentally insert it into this fic, yes? And I will progress from that episode.... (lazy? no. Just really liked that ep....)  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Little signs of distress. Popping up, like the peaks on an echocardiogram... as regular as the seconds ticking off the clock mounted above the door. The cracks were showing. But the true color was still unexposed. She supposed that patience was needed in cases like these, but, geez! She'd never been long on patience...  
  
She should have seen it coming, really... The signs were all there. The timing wasn't right, the circumstances; hell, even the weather... "Well, I guess when you want something you just dig in -without giving much thought to the consequences, huh?" Yeah... Too often.   
  
It was too dank. The grey skies told her that she shouldn't have... but she couldn't help it. Her's was an addictive personality (Hah! How true...) and when she was in need of comfort... she just seemed to fall into old habits...  
  
Same song, heh. Different dance.  
  
The nicu rotation was tough. No doubt about it. That rotation could make the best and brightest fall to their knees. And she was no different. Nope. She thought of Neela. 'Even if I'm not the sharpest pencil in the box...'  
  
That is why, when she exited the store earlier, she glanced around furtively, sheepishly hugging her purchase tight to her... As if she could hide it! If she saw anyone she knew, they wouldn't understand. Especially coming straight off a rotation that tough...   
  
"Well, I got myself into this... painted myself into a corner..." chuckling to herself, she was having fun. And it didn't matter that she should be sleeping or studying... she didn't care.  
  
She needed something to take her mind off of... things. And old habits never let her down. Like an old friend... this old habit was always there. Available at almost any hour... "As long as the store is open for business," she said to no one.  
  
The phone's loud ringing shook her from her reverie. Putting her glass down, Abby unfolded her knees and rose from the floor to answer. "Hello?"  
  
"Abby? It's me," The familiar voice brought a smile to her face, "are you busy?"  
  
"No, I was just, uh... I was actually in the middle of a project..." She felt slight unease give her stomache a twinge. Stop it, silly schoolgirl.  
  
"Well... I don't want to keep you... if you're busy -I s'pose I could call back..." he hedged. She knew he would rather she talk. Now. Probably thought she was playing games. Not that she wouldn't. If he played too.  
  
"No... it's silly, really... I, uhm -I'm just doing some painting. I guess I'm a little wired. I don't know... I couldn't sleep, ya know?"  
  
"Painting?" his voice, incredulous.  
  
"Yeah... It's a chair. I got it at a garage sale. I'm painting it in honor of one of the nicu babies..." Abby thought of the poor kid, with a name like 'Chair,' probably have a hard life... "putting a crackle glaze on it -only it's not crackling like it should... the base paint color is supposed to show through ... but it's not." Shut up Abby... you're talking way too much...  
  
"I can call you back, later, but the light wouldn't be right-"  
  
"No... no -I could use the break, actually. You've heard of the saying, 'like watching paint dry' to describe boredom...? Yeah... so.. What's up?"  
  
"I want... I need to see you."  
  
Well, don't beat around the bush, eh? Tell me what you really want. "Right, uh, right now?" This was weird. She hadn't so much as uttered a non-work related syllable to a man in the last three weeks. And now, of all times, this?  
  
"I thought it would be a nice day for a ride."  
  
"Stef... it's, uh," glancing at the clock, "it's not 'day.' It's past midnight." Oh. His voice sounded so. Mmmm. Tempting, that was it. Yes, he sounded very, very good. "And it's misting outside -not exactly a good time to hop on the hog, ya know?"  
  
His laughter... deep, throaty and full of dark promises, sent a shiver down Abby's spine. This was too, too...? Too scary. Too fast. And her senses were swirling. Not a good place from which to make an informed decision. "Just come out with me... I didn't say the ride would be on the Bike."   
  
Her turn to laugh, "Stef, you're trouble, you know that? And I'm not sure I'm thinking clearly right now..."  
  
"I like you a little off-kilter, Abby; I like you just the way you are, actually."  
  
Abby knew he was telling the truth. Stef (actually, Michael Stefanovich -everyone who knew him just called him 'Stef') had been in her life as far back as she cared to remember. A childhood friend of Eric's, Stef had recently re-entered Abby's world in a cloud of road dust. In Chicago from Minneapolis, ostensibly to show some art, but in reality, to see her and fill her in on "where Eric was at, in his head -ya know?" And he just, well, stayed.   
  
And, after all... how long had it been since a guy received her with that much... acceptance? With such openness? So what if he was five years younger. It didn't matter, really. And he knew. He knew... everything. He was around, then. So, she didn't have to explain things; justify things...regret things. Stef knew. And didn't judge.  
  
"I can't come out to play tonight, Stef... I'm beat; It's raining; I'm, uh.. I'm washing my hair-"  
  
"Abby, may I remind you that you're up at 12:30 in the morning... painting? And besides, I only need you for a half-hour... Surely you can spare a half-hour for your old pal Stef?  
  
"You're Eric's old pal, Steffy, and I'm not sure I ever liked you that much, anyway," she laughed at his feigned outcry, "Okay... I'm intrigued by what need you could possibly have at 12:30 am that I could meet..." Did she really say that?!  
  
"Alright! Come on down..." She peeked through the blinds, and, just as she suspected, there he was, waving up at her.  
  
"So, how long have you been there?"  
  
"About when you said, 'I couldn't sleep?' I pulled up and saw your light on, so I figured it would be okay to call..."  
  
"What if I had... company?" she teased.  
  
She had him. "I, uh... oops. I just assumed you'd be warming a seat for me, I guess..."  
  
"Just have to get my coat..." He was so... so upfront. It threw her completely off-guard. It also drew her in. Stef wasn't in the plan... When Carter went back to Africa...(say it Abby, go ahead) when he broke things off with her she briefly thought about drinking. But she knew this time, no way. She was going back to med school. She wouldn't allow herself a relationship -she wouldn't have time!- she would study and work her butt off so she would collapse every night... and not think. And that, until she successfully graduated and matched, would be her life.  
  
Life, as the saying goes, is what happens while you're making other plans.  
  
And Stef, like life, just happened. One minute he was an old friend of her brother's giving her an update on Eric's progress, and seemingly, the next minute he was actually flirting with her. Well... she was flirting with him, really. All the time. There was something so infectious about Stef's spirit, his investment in really living, that just turned Abby on. He wasn't reckless, he was fully involved. And Abby, too, wanted to be involved. With him.   
  
Bracing herself against the cold, Abby burst out of the door. Stef greeted her with a huge, mischievious smile, affecting a sudden rush of warmth to her face. "What took you so long woman! I'm freezing, here."  
  
"No one said you had to stay out here..."  
  
"Ah, but Abby -to come up would have been more dangerous than a little frostbite... wouldn't it?" His eyes twinkled and she was torn. Smack him? or... grab him, right there, and kiss him hard on his mouth.  
  
He didn't give her time to make the choice. Tossing his helmet to her, "Here, put this on," Stef extended his hand and she accepted, swinging her leg over the back of his bike.  
  
"Where's yours?" she scolded.  
  
"I didn't expect to be hanging around this long... didn't come prepared for a, uh.. a ride along" he looked embarrassed. Abby knew this... this - whatever it was- came as a surprise to him too.   
  
"Well... if you're going to be my ride for a while... I better invest in a good helmet. Wouldn't want to put you at risk or anything..." she trailed off... "What?" He had "that look" in his eyes again...  
  
"I think... I may already be at risk, Abby."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Author's Ramblings  
  
Luka and Carter are having fun, for now... and Abby has been quietly getting her stuff together... So, now it's time for her to have a bit of fun, too. Picture Stef as a combination of Evan Marriot (only with brains...) and Ethan Zohn (without the whine)... and then see him falling for Abby, hard. 


	13. Hiatus

Chapter 13: "**Hiatus**"  
  
Author's Note: I've been gone for a long time. Sorry. Hope you will come back, pour yourself a cup of joe, prop your feet up and continue to read. And I feel like a traitorous hag... but this will take a long while to get Carter and Abby back together. So, if you don't like that idea... I want to spare you now. And, TerraIncognita, yeah. I had to wash my brain out with soap after the Evan Marriot/ Ethan Zohn comparison. What WAS I thinking... Just picture YOUR fantasy 'bad boy with heart of gold' when you see the name "Stef."

"You both should be wearing helmets...." Carter's voice trailed off into the unseasonably balmy night. He felt a vague pang of ... some... some feeling in the very back of his mind; shaking it off, "...I wonder who that guy IS... Damn motorcycle....hmph...." he muttered to nobody. "Don't know why it should bother me... that she ...that she is on a motorcycle with some guy-"  
  
"Who?" Luka interrupted.  
  
"Luka... ah, hah... I didn't know anyone was around..." Shit. Okay... No. This is okay. C'mon. No big deal, right. It's LUKA...sheesh. He'd understand, "Ah... oh -Abby. She just rode off on a motorcycle with some GUY (_did he really spit out that last word?)_ and he wasn't even wearing a helmet."  
  
"Yeah, that's Stef. Nice guy. Abby's known him for a long time -practically grew up together." Tossing it off, nonchalantly (as though he was insinuating,_ EVERYone in the ER knew THAT- where you been?_ Carter thought defensively) Luka noticed Carter's reaction. "He is here to set up exhibitions with some minor galleries; artist..." Luka detected just the slightest bit of discomfort in Carter's eyes. "Sorry... You don't know him -she didn't introduce you?"  
  
"No," he spat out a little too quickly, and then correcting himself... remembering he had no reason to be jeal- remembering he loved KEM, "...No, I, uh... I haven't had the pleasure." Damn. Still sounded a little too spiteful.  
  
"He seems to make her happy..." Luka allowed himself a little chuckle, "...not exactly something either one of us was able to do, eh?" Luka couldn't help himself. Carter sometimes annoyed him. He was like a little boy who wanted everything he couldn't have. He had Kem, now. And a son on the way. In spite of his baffling friendship with Carter, Luka wanted to dig at him, just a little... to remind him that Abby was no longer his to worry about.

She was getting pretty used to this mode of travel. For someone who worked in an ER, seeing all the accidents caused, directly and indirectly, by "those infernal machines" (as Maggie used to call them) Abby marveled that she carelessly tossed her helmet on, now. Without so much as a second... well, okay. She still felt a brief little chill up her spine everytime she threw her leg up and over that luxuriously padded, leather seat...  
  
But that's okay. Oh, yeah. Because the thrill she got as soon as it purred into action wiped away all the residual fear.  
  
"Stef," shouting above the whip of the headwind, "I gotta be there no later than 4:00. They won't let you sign in, any later..."  
  
Downshifting to take the corner, Stef laughed slightly, "Abs... relax, I got it."  
  
"No... really," giving his obliques a tight squeeze, "I can't blow this. Really."  
  
He got a kick out of her. Always had. The first person to catch onto things and the last to realize how smart she actually was. Damned if he'd ever figure out what made her so hard on herself... but he found himself wondering, increasingly, if he could stick around long enough to find out. Commitment had never been his strong suit...  
  
"Abby, babe, shut up and let me drive..." laughing, he took another pinch to his sides, "Relax, already!"  
  
When she didn't pass her boards the first time, Abby was at a complete loss. She'd worked so hard, and for what? And, of course, the self-defeating thoughts came pouring in after; she was foolish to even try, who did she think she was, anyway, she'd never be anything more than just a nurse, a job that annoyed and frustrated her increasingly, year after year after year because of the lack of CONTROL she felt in the position, hell, in her LIFE; suck at school, suck at relationships ('_Carter_,' wait, get out of my head!) suck at nursing, suck at friendships, suck with my family, suck, suck, suck, suck! SHIT.  
  
Stop it.  
  
Yep. That's pretty much how she shut that voice up, too. Just told it to get bent. Because that is not who she wanted to be, anymore. She was tired of succumbing to that voice, tired of listening to that voice, tired of letting that voice RULE. So... she gave it the boot. Dethroned that sucker. Toppled that statue. And she wouldn't suck anymore.  
  
And she was going back to take the test. Get back on that horse and ... hopefully... ride. Hell, JFK, Jr. had to take the damn bar, what? -twice? before he passed it... and he was frigging American royalty, dammit. If he could fail once, and then pass, well, so could she.  
  
Yeah. That's how she felt two days ago... but now? Now was the 'zero hour.' Riding behind Stef, she tried to let the fear go in the wind... tried to release it like... The thought escaped her. Ahhh, yes, "Like origami cranes," she sighed out loud, smiling, thinking of Susan's 'mission.'  
  
"What's that?" Stef interrupted her reverie.  
  
"Oh... nothing, just thinking about a boy and his wishes..." It helped, sometimes, to remember that she didn't have it so bad; things could be a lot worse...

Signing off on his last chart, Carter clattered the stack back into the racks and tossed the Bic onto the admin counter. Wearily rubbing a hand over his rough face, he thought about what he would do next. Go home, probably, and as much as he adored Kem, the thought, oddly, brought no comfort.  
  
That annoyingly allusive feeling that arose in the back of his mind as he watched Abby roar away on that bike hit him much harder in the gut this time. "Who was that guy? 'Stef' Luka had called him... What kind of a name is 'Stef,'" Carter pissed to himself, "Heh, sounds like a dock-workers name" he thought, and immediately felt shamed for the savagery.  
  
"Going back to the mansion, Carter?" Pratt's mocking query broke his thoughts, thankfully.  
  
"Yeah... just finishing up some... stuff..."   
  
"You okay, man? You look a little pale," a not-usually seen concern passed over Pratt's face, "...I mean, you're always lily-white, but you look sick, man..."   
  
Carter almost laughed, "Give me a break, Pratt... I'm just tired. Kem's got ... you know.. cravings... gotta go out late at night.. not getting much sleep..." his voice trailed off, belying the truth of his words.  
  
"Relax, man, I'm not taking your history or anything.. you want that -go talk to Severa. Just a, you know, 'thanks for asking, but, I'm fine' will do..."  
  
"Yeah, you take care, too, Greg..." Carter shot back over his shoulder. Cocky SOB.  
  
Guess it was time to get home... Heading for the door, Carter suddenly spun on his heel and headed back toward the lounge.

'It is finished,' Abby thought, stretching her aching back muscles... 'and in under 3 hours, too...'  
  
This time the test seemed a little easier... maybe, just maybe, if she knocked on wood, spun around three times and spit over her left shoulder... maybe she could just pass...  
  
God, she NEEDED to pass...   
  
Stop it.  
  
If she didn't pass, she'd just wait around until her next eligibility, and ... take it again. And again, if needed. Because Abby was sure of one thing, lately, and one thing only -(_'not even Stef_?' her mind asked, _'shut up, don't go there_' she replied silently... '_Carter_?' her mind feebly asked... _'don't even_!' she spat out, again, silently)-   
  
She _would_ be a doctor. Oh, yes. And she wouldn't let anything, internally or ... heh... externally stop her this time.

Author's Ramblings: "Scho-o-o-o-o-ols out, for, summer......" And that means I will have more time to devote to this guilty pleasure.... Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please drop us a line and tell us what you think.... And have a safe and pleasant summer.


	14. Cruel, Cruel Summer

Rewrite of Chapter 14

_Author's Note: So; my original Chapter 14 sucked swamp-water. I'm trying to recapture my passion for this story... this is my "mea culpa" for posting such complete hogswallop. _

Cruel, Cruel Summer

He looked up at the clock and wiped the drip of sweat from just over his brow where it clung teasingly, threatening to fall into his eye, yet never quite performing the painful dive.

Bent over the bench at such an odd angle, his back began its dull litany of complaints. About this time his mind started in on him, _you need some meds; just a tylenol for crying out loud; okay, how 'bout a drink? a drink will be okay; you can allow yourself a drink.... _And on and on. He had gotten to the point that he almost ignored the hollow voice; he'd actually made a game of it, of late. Pushed outlandish thoughts forcefully toward that beguiling voice...

'A man not to be trifled with,' he thought as he slowly lowered the drill to the bench, 'a builder of fine things,' his chuckle echoed in the empty garage, almost startling him. "Some builder," he said out loud to no one, "'Finishing the Hat' is more like it...."

* * *

"_Doctor _Lockhart, I need you in the lounge as soon as possible, _Doctor._" Susan's eyes twinkled with mischief. She had been emphasizing the word 'doctor' all day, and while Abby protested modestly, she had to admit, she liked the sound of that word applied to her name.

"I'll be right there, _Doctor_..." Abby sassed back. Signing the chart with a flourish, Abby dropped it loudly -okay, too loudly, but just this once, who cares?- into the rack. Turning toward the computer screen she caught just the briefest glimpse of someone rushing in the back doors, slinging a well-abused leather case over his shoulder. Carter.

Of course. Just when she would begin to feel the slightest bit of comfort, he'd parade into her peripheral vision... Well, okay, he wasn't parading -he was just as uncomfortable in her presence as she was in his, she knew this... It was just that... feelings bore just the slightest tinge of savage when applied to him, even now. After all this time.

They hadn't so much as said two words since _it _happened. Well, now, that wasn't exactly true, was it? He'd been the only one to see her, while she was reading the letter. The letter of all letters -the letter that supplanted the _unfettered _feelings of that _other _letter in her mausoleum of remembrances...

But other than a wistful, "I never had a doubt in my mind," nothing. It seemed to her, when she spared any feeling for the thought at all, it seemed to her that he was _choosing _not to look at her. Choosing to stay on the outermost fringes of her existence. Choosing to be _absent _from her landscape as much as was humanly possible. A ghost in the machine, only.

God. What she missed most? The ease of conversation. They'd shared a shorthand, sort of. Each able to finish the other's -never mind _sentences_- THOUGHTS, really. Bizarre that they worked in the same hospital, and yet never, not even briefly, seemed to connect at all, anymore.

She blamed herself. It wasn't that she harbored any ill will toward him; quite the contrary. She'd been able to get past the hurt -no, REALLY- and see that she was culpable in the deconstruction of their relationship. Truly. No. It was the feeling that no matter what she approached him with -not an offer for coffee, even- made the slightest dent in that wall that had seemingly been erected over night...

She'd hoped. God. This was hard to admit -and she wouldn't, not to any breathing soul, but to herself? In the quiet moments -moments dangling in some time-suspension, apart from the ticking of the tangible clock- she could admit, that she'd harbored a flickering tea-light candle of hope that they could be friends again.

No use. He walked into the ambulance bay -onto her private moment of victory- and too late. She couldn't take back the exultant smile. She'd fought too hard for that moment. But she dearly wished he'd not been the one to walk out into her celebration. Not after what he -and Kem, can't forget ...Kem- had just endured.

And since then? Nothing. Nothing more than the briefest eye-flicker of recognition. And, of course, the professional curt politeness... but then, he was her supervising Attending.

But he didn't seem able to truly _attend_. To anything. Not any more.

* * *

He couldn't remember when he started this project. Last month? The month before that? It was shortly before she came back... to see the house, and all the preparations he'd made. The house that would be their home. Well, _sometimes_ home. When they were in town. He'd hoped to finish it before she arrived. He didn't. He'd only tried his hand at a few wood working projects- a life time ago, it seemed- and so the work was slow going. He'd picked a hard project, as well. And when she arrived, well, there just seemed so much to do. He'd put the project aside, until... until a few weeks... after she left.

When the minutes turned into hours, and the hours disintegrated into days... Weeks gone by and he -still sleepwalking through the days, drifting in and out of consciousness through the nights- realized that she wouldn't be coming back...

And oddly, the baby's unfinished bookcase bedeviled his mind. _I should finish the bookcase. It's the right thing to do. Don't want any unfinished business..._

Only, that is what his life felt like right now. Unfinished business.

* * *

"Hey," she approached tentatively. Didn't want to scare him away.

"Hi... uh, hey," he'd countered, absentmindedly. He was closing on the sad, dead little boy. Trauma case they'd worked, from earlier.

"You, uh, are you ..okay?" _God, that was lame_.

"Hanging in there... You?"

And, here it was, the reason she didn't open her mouth -even if she should. Before she could put the breaks on it, and stop the loaded gun, "Personally or professionally..." came stumbling out of her mouth. _No, no, no. That isn't what she wanted to come out, well, maybe yes, someday, but not this way, not right now! _She wanted to be supportive. She wanted to be the shoulder. She wanted to show him... that she could be counted on... But she'd gotten so rutted in leaning on him... that flexing the almost atrophied support muscles didn't come so easily any more.

As quickly as the window opened -the minuscule window in the large gate of the big, insurmountable brick wall- it shut down again.

"Carter, I need you to sign off on some charts..." It was just as well Pratt interrupted what little conversation may, in reality, have never taken place...

Lesser of two disappointments.

* * *

Aimless wandering was so much easier when you truly had no place to be. But, he was late, and only prolonging the inevitable show-down with the Cane-wielding Wonder. The bookcase was finished. Finished with a beautiful powdery baby blue finish. High gloss top coat -two, just to make sure it would resist chipping; children could be so hard on furniture.

An ice-cream detour led him to a park, which snared his weary body with an inviting bench- not too stained with bird droppings. Repose which lent itself particularly well to the mind-numbing trappings of people-watching. He sat there, realizing he was going to be late for work, but not caring much; just enjoying the irregular parade of pedestrian ease.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sighted his nightmares and dreams in one vision; a woman, pushing a baby carriage. He rose quickly and darted across the green of the dog run; heading where, he didn't know.

Why did it seem that when you weren't aware of something you almost never caught a fleeting glimpse of it; but as soon as you became aware of it, you were forever seeing it around, everywhere. In noon-time traffic; on park benches; in the little blue and green patterned wall-paper that you never quite finished hanging in your dead son's room.

He'd never escape. Never.

Without even thinking about where he was going his brain gauged vague awareness that he was entering Ike's just around the corner from the ER. Before he could think any further, he was ordering a brew. A brew, huh. Just like some golden frat boy with no worries other than the next party. A nice, dark, frothy beer. More of an ale, really. And it was so good. It went down so smooth that he ordered another. Only this time, he was forming his mouth around a hard, icy, faintly Germanic sounding name.

And after that, he lost count. And track of time. Before he knew it, it was dark outside, he was sloshed inside, and he'd skipped his shift.

"Dr. Carter, would you like me to arrange for a cab for you?" His thoughts were broken by the polite request from Scott, the genial bar tendering favorite at genial old Ike's. The question hung in the air between them for the splittest of split seconds. Heavy, but without real weight.

"You don't have to worry about it, Scott -I'll make sure he gets home, safely." Familiar voice, from a galaxy far, far away. "Carter?" She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, exerting no pressure, just an attempt at solace.

He turned and looked deep into her eyes -eye's so full of the caring he'd wished he'd seen eons earlier, when it wouldn't have been too late, and something cruel twisted the corners of his mouth. "Run away, Abby. Run far away. You don't want any of this." It stung, using her own words against her. He knew right where to land his blow with expert precision. He waited for it, the lock down in her gaze, but -aside from the tiniest flicker of pain- it never came. Just a softening brown glance -muddied by the barest hint of tears.

She sensed he wouldn't want some big show of support, so she discreetly paid his bar tab, and then quietly, yet firmly ushered him to the door. "See ya later, Scotty -I'm being beamed up," Carter shot out as they passed through the door. Abby looked back over her shoulder and flashed a wry smile and a quick eye-roll at the guy, just before the door slammed shut. God, she hoped he'd do the honorable bartender thing and keep this to himself.

* * *

"Thanks; you, uh... you didn't have to do that," She'd managed to usher him into his front door, and propped at his dining room table in almost total silence;he finally uttered something more than 'yes' or 'no' to her limited questions, "there are cabs crawling all over this city; I can afford a cab ride." She knew he was peevish; could hear it in his voice.

"You're welcome." she said it simply, with no offended pride or over-emphasis on her part. He was struck, maybe for the first time since he'd been back, by how much she'd changed. Change. Huh. He felt that cruel thing flicker inside his chest for a moment, _the woman who didn't believe people could change, went and changed._ But it passed. She'd been extraordinarily nice to him, and Carter was nothing if not impeccably well-mannered.

"Well, let me offer you some coffee, then, for your trouble," and he pushed awkwardly away from the table. He was feeling the beer. "Maybe a little later...." his voice trailed off as he sat heavily back down.

"I'll get it; you'll have to help me, though..." just the slightest hesitancy, "I don't know where things are ...here." _If it had been his old apartment..._

"Sure," he soundest almost sad, "sure, of course -uh, in the drawer to the right of the 'fridge, that's where the scoop is. I ground some beans a couple of days ago -the container is on the bottom of the shelf. Uh, of the fridge," he reached a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "and the filters are in the cabinet -just above..." the rest inaudible.

Abby finished up the coffee prep; made a mug for Carter, and a mug for herself. She was just about to sit down, when he took the antagonistic tone with her, yet again, "So," he paused, "how's things with you and .. What's his name? Stef?"

This time, though, she wasn't as docile, "Listen. I know you've had a tough time, and if my being here isn't helping, I will leave." It wasn't sharp, what came out of her mouth, just to the point. Still, immediate contrition squeezed her heart. It wasn't fair, really, to be offended; he hadn't been involved in her life anymore, and she didn't doubt that he'd only heard what little gossip there was floating around involving her personal business. For a gossip target at County, she was passe, anymore. Not since his letter made the rounds, had anyone shown the slightest interest in her private business.

And that was just as well. Stef had been a nice distraction. They had an easy time together, but they were really more like family than anything else, and in the end, it just wouldn't have worked out for either of them. However, the scenario, in the hands of a skillful workplace game of Telephone, could be interpreted as "Abby's been dumped again." She didn't think her vanity -what little she possessed- could sustain that hit one more time.

She adjusted her tone, slightly, "He, uh, went back home." Finality; a done deed. And with her simple pronouncement, she knew it really was, and that was okay.

"I'm sorry... if you are." His tone was softer, kind again, and she knew the sentiment was heartfelt. She looked up at him and for the briefest of moments, his features melted into a slight smile.

"Ah. It's okay. Nothing to be sorry over. Really," and she returned his smile -just a little bit.

_to be continued..._


	15. Obla Di, Obla Da

**Chapter 15**

**Author's note:** _This is incredibly slow going. I wanted to be done with this a year ago; you know, work out my frustrated hopes for the Carter and Abby saga... but I'm getting little inspiration from what is onscreen. So... it's hard, ya know?_

_Anyway... on with it._

**Obla-Di, Obla-Da**

_**Okay; what**_ _**happened?**_ That night at his townhouse he was actually almost friendly. There was just the slightest hint of that old comraderie in his almost-smile. What happened that made that slight armistice recede, again? He was suffering. He was obviously using alcohol; she'd had proof of that.

And a couple days later, when he came into the hospital with the slightest bit of swagger, she knew he was altered, could smell the alcohol cloud around him when he passed by her... And, then, he goes and makes a scene in Curtain Two? The poor patient looked like he didn't know what hit him. Carter, yelling at him, jabbing his cell phone into the poor, half-blind guy's hand, repeating over and over, "Call her! You will always regret it if you don't CALL her..."

She knew Carter was losing it. And she'd ached to help him; to hide his problem... she'd retrieved his cell phone from the grateful patient, and brought it back to him... and that's when she'd noticed. The wall went back up, and she was left talking to a near stranger, again. The only time she'd felt the slightest connection was when he'd apologized for his "hypocrisy" toward her over all the "crap" he used to give her...

She'd tried a couple more times; suggested meetings ("You still go to those?" he'd asked, almost insultingly, she thought at the time) offered to go with him, as a friend... And he rebuffed her. Not kindly, nor unkindly, for that matter -nope, just the really big, cavalier brush-off.

Standing outside the closing elevator doors, having been completely "excused" by his demeanor, it had finally hit her; John Carter really just wanted nothing whatsoever to do with her...ever again. And she went home that day, completely, uncharacteristically, sobbing all the way.

She'd called in sick the next day; the last before three whole days off, and spent the entire four day period in her bathrobe, planted in front of the television. She couldn't even remember if she'd eaten those first three days... but by the fourth, signs of life began to reappear.

It was so, very over. And she knew it.

Pushing the alarm button the next morning, she'd awakened like some wild animal, coming out of hibernation. Ravenous, she'd stopped and had, not one extra tall cup of mocha coffee, but two -and a mountainous applesauce muffin, as well. She'd felt as reborn as if she'd come out of a four year coma. And she felt...well... _right_. Or...as right as someone waking from a coma _could _feel.

Descending from the EL platform that morning she'd bounded... yes! she actually bounded from the last step... and then realized that she didn't ever want to do that again. "Let's not take this good mood too far, now," she'd laughed to herself. But really, her secret thought was, "Let's not let anyone else in that far again, 'K?"

Later, at Admit, she was surprised at the number of people who'd asked her if she'd done something different to her hair... or was she wearing a different eye-shadow... or commenting that she must have gotten a very good night's sleep, wink-wink... And she had to admit to herself, that for the first time in three years, she wasn't alternately fearing or desperately hoping that she'd run into Carter. And, if she were really honest with herself... she had to admit; it felt good.

_**She's the last**_ person he'd ever want to confess anything to, ever. Period. What did she think, that they could just erase the last year, go back and start all over from scratch? What the hell? Did she forget? Did she forget how freaking selfish she was? And now, she's what? Trying to be his SPONSOR at AA? Volunteering for the post, when he had to practically beg her to do it for him the FIRST time around... when his job was in jeopardy. "In jeopardy because SHE ratted me out... Bitch." he chortled to himself.

Some still, quiet part of him knew he didn't really feel this way. But it felt good, for some reason, to pin his anger on the one person who never seemed to be really affected by him. Who never, once, took him seriously. Who couldn't just accept that he loved her, and wanted to be there for her -he didn't care if she had a crazy family... and...

He was doing it again. "Stop it," he chided himself, softly. Don't give her that much power, John. He couldn't think of Abby without getting either irrationally angry or maudlin -depending upon how much he'd had to drink... and so, he tried to think of her as little as possible.

It made it easier, after the humiliation of having her see him home from Ike's ("Why? Why did it have to be ABBY who 'caught' him there?) It was just so much easier to NOT deal with her... or deal with her in a completely forced professional way, than to have to look into her eyes and see... pity.

He could stand almost any emotion from Abby, except pity. Let her look at him scornfully, or angrily, or apathetically... but never with pity. Never. He just...

Well, he just couldn't take the pitiful look in her eyes when she looked at him anymore, that's all. So... when Wendell just... kind of happened he saw his way out. She would distract him from everything else -Kem's rebuffs, Luka's empathy (he felt almost guilty -his loss seemed like ... like it was _upstaging_ Luka's, in a way) Susan's preoccupation with her newChief's duties and...Abby's ...pity.

God help him; it was Abby's pity that hurt the most. She'd never looked at him that way before. They'd always been equals... she'd never made him feel like she needed to give him a hand up, before. But every time he looked into her eyes, he saw a reflection of himself that he couldn't stand.

Someone... weak. Weak and... needy.

****

**_Still feeling elated_** after recovering from her "coma" and maybe a little more carefree than usual at work left Abby a little "off her game." So much that she didn't even hesitate when the black SUV came screeching up to the curb in the Ambu Bay, and the driver shouted that someone was bleeding... and she'd felt herself pulled into the vehicle and well... it all blurred, really, at that point.

She was fine. Really, she was. After about the fifteenth time she assured Susan of that very fact, she actually began to feel it herself. And she HAD done the right things -she'd re-established the slightly lapsed contact with her sponsor, gone to several AA meetings, consulted a rabbi and a priest -just for good measure. She'd also -although she'd never admit it out loud to any living soul- consulted a psychic. Again, just for good measure. When she said she was "all good," she'd known for certain that she'd meant it.

Until, of course, she'd choked doing some simple procedure on her first day back, and had to leave the hospital. It was too soon to go back.. She should have known that; Susan had warned her... But she thought she could handle it, really.

It was here, finding herself sitting immobile on the EL platform, stuck in some kind of weird purgatory between home and the hospital... that she ran into Jake Scanlon. Only she didn't recognize him, as they'd only worked together briefly before the Christmas holiday... that, and he'd sported a beard before. Which he'd shaved off, she could see, now that she recognized him. He said something vaguely crunchy-granola about the Yellowstone park, and she thought to herself that he must be high... No, actually she SAID that to him.

But, he smiled at her... and she noticed his blue eyes. And how impossibly white and straight his teeth were... and how she'd like to lick her tongue over those teeth... and then she realized that she was smiling back, and also thatsomeone must haveslipped her some crack when she wasn't looking.

And she found that almost, but-not-quite happy place she'd had just before the ... the hostage situation happened. She felt the little flip of her heart as Jake Scanlon started off but then turned around to walk backwards and tell her that he looked forward to working with her again. With that impossibly white-toothed, slightly off-kilter smile...

So, she walked back to work... and it felt good.

_to be continued..._


	16. As Large as Alone

**Chapter 16**

**Author's note:**

_Incorporated within this chapter are what could be construed as spoilers for the end of the current season... If you don't want to be spoiled in any way, please don't read ahead. Well, until May, that is..._

_The following is my attempt at going my own way, while not going completely AU on everyone._

**Important note: the title of this chapter is taken directly from the following poem by E.E. Cummings and is not mine._ (But it did inspire me, greatly)_**

maggie and milly and molly and may

went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang

so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, and

milly befriended a stranded star

whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing

which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and

may came home with a smooth round stone

as small as a world and as large as alone.

_For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)_

_it's always ourselves we find in the sea_

E.E. Cummings

**As Large as Alone**

**_She looked out_** over the water and thought of her life recently. Well, the last 18 months, actually. Established fully in internship, facing the imminent approach of residency, she was finally able to think of herself as "Doctor." She still sometimes paused briefly before signing her new moniker to charts, but only occasionally. That had to be a good sign. She was finally, maybe, starting to really feel and act like an grown up...

Except now, she felt almost as small and helpless as a child again. She thought of their brief... affair? relationship? She didn't really know what it should be called. It felt like a love affair, at first. He, attentive and obviously (why? She didn't know) attracted to her -pursuing her even. She was attracted in spite of the age difference, their compromised working relationship, her own misgivings. And maybe, she was drawn toward him because of his... earnestness.

That was it, what made him so irresistible; he was earnest. No hiding, no games; he wanted her, fiercely, and she knew it. Maybe she wanted him, just as fiercely... But she didn't know this, at first. And that was her M.O. – always hiding, never fully revealing, never taking that step off the high rock and just plunging in. No... That was one thing Abby had never been able to do. Plunge.

She felt so very close to plunging in, at one point. It was that look in his eyes that said, "I'm not going anywhere" which almost had her, almost ensnared her into believing. But no. As soon as they arrived back from the visit with his family, she began to feel that abject terror again. Well, truth be told, she felt it before they even left his parent's house, really. Oh, hell, who was she fooling; she felt it at the baptismal fount. Him, standing there holding that tiny, perfect baby, eye's twinkling at her filled with conspiracy and all she could think was, "Not in this lifetime, pal." And the terror set in.

And now? It was over. After pushing back and forth a few times and some, let's face it, really good if slightly angry sex he...just gave up. Filling out his match list with someone else, tidying up loose ends without her, he was going to just walk away. Hunker down within the comforting embrace of his family as if he were some refugee from a terrible historic battle, until flight time. San Francisco. Long, long way away from here.

"I must be some piece of work," she muttered, breaking her silence to the gathering throng of ducks.

"Oh, I dunno -I couldn't live with you for very long, but surely there's someone out there who can stand you..." Her lips screwed up tightly in a half-suppressed smile, Neela sauntered lightly toward her. "How're you doing?"

"Oh, I'm contemplating the very real possibility that I may have to consider a career change. Celibacy and the sisterhood may be all I'm suited for, at this point." Trying to sound light, Abby knew she missed the mark by a few hairs.

"Don't know if I can quite picture you in a nun's drab habit -lilac's a better color on you." Her gaze steady, Neela came straight to the point, "Listen, I know you probably will tell me to bugger off, but, seriously -if you want to talk about it, I am here." Swinging her eyes mercifully toward the water, Neela fell silent. Waiting probably.

"It's just that..." this was NOT how she wanted to handle this, "you know... it's no big deal, really. I'm not pining... Longing, maybe, just a little..." a hoarse laugh burst out of her, "I think I just put my senses on hold... just for a little while, with him," how to explain what she didn't even fully know? "Jake... made me feel... wanted again. It was easy to ignore the danger signs, because I just wanted to _feel_– ' Springing tears startled her eyes, "...oh, damn, Neela -I don't know where this is coming from... I never thought for a moment that this was something serious..." she paused, searching frantically for the right words, "but, I guess, him pushing for it... I don't know." Her breath puffed out around her mouth, and immediately she wished for a smoke. "I'm fine; really -I just need to get this out of my system," chancing a look up at Neela, "and then, you know... I can move on." Abby was gracefully dismissing her, and she knew her colleague... her friend... was aware of the trick.

Neela looked at her in that clinical, inscrutable way of hers -the way that almost always made Abby think of a marble goddess- smiled quickly and made a move towards the stone stairway, "Okay... well, I'll just be going back, then." She darted quickly to the foot of the staircase, but then stopped, "but if you need to talk, or binge eat, or anything... well, you know," she started up the steps.

"Neela," Abby's voice almost caught in her throat, reminding her of the potential tears she was trying to smother, "do you think," oh, this was really pathetic, "do you think that I'm unlovable?"

"Absolutely!" she called back, but her warm smile betrayed her. A quick wave of her hand, and Neela was gone.

Glancing back over the water, Abby smiled to herself.

**_The dream was_** about to become the reality. Carter scrutinized the plans intently; it was all there -everything he'd asked for, right down to the courtyard. A place for grieving families to find solace, and peace. "This is exactly right. I'm pleased that you came to see it my way, Dr. Anspaugh."

"Please, John, in light of our evolving relationship, I hardly think it's appropriate to call me by my last name," extending a hand, "call me Donald."

Carter smirked just a little, "O...kay," a chuckle, "_Donald_." This was surreal. He had never been anything more to Dr. Ansp-, _Donald_ than a grudgingly tolerated underling, in his entire time at County, and here he was, invited to call the man by his first name... Perversely, an advertising slogan went through his mind, "Membership has it's privileges" and he laughed again.

"You cannot expect to entirely sponsor a new wing of what I consider to be 'MY hospital' and address me in the same way you did as an intern, now can you?" Dr. Anspaugh's eyes twinkled with high spirits.

"Oh, I guess that wouldn't be entirely appropriate," sudden realization hit him, "but then, I've a lot of years to go, before I'm as comfortable in this role as Gemma was," He looked out over the vacant lot that would become his son's memorial, "but I'm learning..." Learning, in spades...

_**The weather was**_ lovely, so Carter decided to cut his cab ride short. Passing a fifty through the passenger window, "keep the change," he called out absent-mindedly. As he ambled down the tree-lined street, he turned over in his mind the thought that, perhaps, Gemma was right; this is what he was born to do. He'd never felt any affinity for the choice, at all, in his entire lifetime. He'd dedicated his life to being a doctor; his life a living memorial to his dead brother. Dedicated to helping people. It had hardly turned out as he envisioned, though.

No, he helped people, sure, but he was still empty inside. Everything he thought he'd have was taken away in a simple, stupid accident. No one was to blame; certainly not Kem -she'd done everything right. Everything. But he'd been sure of that from the start. The assurance that came much more slowly to his heart was the assurance that he'd done everything right, too. He hated the helplessness he'd felt, and turned all the blame inward. He'd been powerless, just like with Bobby; he'd failed to make Kem happy after their son died, just like he'd failed to make his mother happy after Bobby died.

But lately, he could look at his face in the mirror and know, with certainty, that he'd been blameless, too. And then the plan began to form in his mind. The change in the weather he'd been praying for. A living memorial to his dead son, and Kem's work; a safe place, where those suffering from AIDS could find comprehensive care. A place where those who couldn't afford it otherwise, could find caring staff to meet their needs. A noble, fine place, in the midst of urban implacability.

Carter looked up into the cool, crisp morning sky; spring in Chicago. And he'd be gone by fall. Nobody knew yet, he hadn't even told Susan. Since Kerry inexplicably _arranged_ for him to get tenure, their relationship was a bit strained. Recently, though, things weregetting better. Still, best not to table the news of his departure just yet; he had a little time. Time to heal that breach, soften the news a bit. She was operating the ER with a near skeleton crew as it was, he didn't relish breaking the news that she'd soon be down another attending.

Reaching his front walk, Carter stretched out a hand for the gate. He paused a little, looking up at the house that was supposed to be his family home. Knew right then that he wouldn't sell it; he'd keep it for when he had business in Chicago. There would always be business in Chicago; the Foundation was his to run, after all. He could get away with one or two trips to attend to pressing business, but most of the day to day stuff would be handled by those much more capable. Anything that needed his attention could be faxed. Or overnighted.

He entered the quiet house, threw his keys onto the entry table, and grabbed the phone. Pinning the phone to his ear with an awkward shoulder, he trained his fingers on loosening the knot in his tie. He counted the rings almost as an afterthought, guiltily.

"Hello?" her musical voice sang out notes that made his heart skip. "Kem, hello... how are you?" Their conversations usually started the same, with a little nervous volley, and he wondered if they'd ever get past the semi-formal greetings. "I'm fine, John! How are you?" Relating to her the triumph on the adjusted blueprints, he almost felt fine, maybe for the first time in his life. "They tweaked everything -no more burger joints, and gift stores- Oh, and the industrial meditation zone? They buckled on that one, too." Her soft laughter bolstered his confidence even more, "It's just as I envisioned it;it's going to be a quiet, tasteful meditation garden now -almost like an outdoor chapel."

"John, that is wonderful... I had faith that you would be able to persuade them, though." He heard her sigh happily, and then, "..and what will they name this beautiful place?" Softly, reverently, he recited, "The Joshua Carter Memorial Care Center, after our son." There was a long pause, but she let out a soft breath and said, "that's... that's very good. Yes, very ... I like it John, I do."

"I knew you would," he smiled at the thought of pleasing her, and continued, "..well, I will say good-bye to you,now -I've got a shift in," glancing down at his watch, "two hours. Need a quick power nap and a shower," he couldn't seem to _end_ their conversations comfortably, either,"uhm...you take care of yourself, Kem."

"John -wait," he pulled the phone quickly back up to his ear, "there's something I have to tell you." This didn't sound good. "Go on," bracing himself for the blow, "I've got time."

"John, I'm going back to Paris for a while. I've been talking to an old friend there, and I think I'm going to take a sabbatical, just to recharge a bit." Hearing the difficulty in her voice, his mind began to race, keeping pace with his heart. "Michel, my friend, he is... We used to see each other, a long time ago; he has asked me to come, and speak on my work. Seminars for potential investors..." She paused long enough to let this sink in, "John, nothing is set in stone, but I feel I really need to do this."

He slumped to the hallway floor, sucking huge gulps of air.

It had taken a long time, to get over their loss... Both of them dealing with it in their own way. He'd respected her wishes to heal alone, surrounded by her work, and was almost surprised when her phone calls came with steady regularity. Oh, Carter suspected that she'd moved on with someone, just like he had with Wendell... But he'd hoped against hope, when he allowed himself to think about it, that she hadn't moved on so far ahead that he'd lose her altogether. He certainly hadn't. Or couldn't. He knew the moment Wendell told him she loved him, knew that he could not say those words in return. His vision began to clear that night; a man waking from a dream.

"Well..." he hesitated, "I think that could be very good for your clinic, Kem." He measured his words, carefully; what claim, after all, did he really have on her affections anymore. "This... Michel," tread carefully, Carter, "he a _close _friend?"

Kem hesitated just long enough, that he knew. Michel was no Wendell. This was more than fly-by-night; this... this was a wake-up call. "He is a very dear, old friend, John... someone whom I've known forever, it seems... and," another not-so-good hesitation, "yes; we are close."

There it was; hanging in the air between them. He didn't even know how much he longed...for her to wrap her arms around him and just hold him close, until that moment. Until she was seemingly beyond his grasp. He'd just assumed it was going to work out; that Kem would come back to him, that they would be together. It couldn't NOT work out. It just couldn't.

"I think I'll come to Paris, maybe meet with you and talk about funding... I'd," where in hell was he going with this? "I've got some extra capital set aside, and I think I could free it up..." but he couldn't find the words to finish the sentence.

She hesitated again, "You're... you're coming to Paris...?" _Don't sound so excited, Kem..._ The thought was savage -but only for a moment. He concentrated on softening his tone, "Yeah... yeah, I think it's a good idea. I could use a break and," okay, really, where was he going with this? "and maybe, I don't know," and finallyinspiration hit "videotape your presentation... Yeah...you could have a professional copy to send to other donors as a fund raising tool..." he let this sink in, proud of his bottom-of-the-ninth save.

Her next answer would be crucial; if she didn't seem totally resistant to the idea, perhaps there was a chance that she and Michel were _truly_ only close friends... If she answered emphatically that it wasn't a good idea, he'd know there was no chance left for him in her mind. "Sure... sure," she finally spoke, "that could be useful, John... and I'd really like for you to meet Michel..."

_to be continued..._


	17. Good Rugby Weather

**Chapter 17**

**Author's Note**: _This is the final chapter. It's obviously very, very AU at this point. Enjoy – and please read my "good-bye" note at the end, okay?_

**Good Rugby Weather**

**_Jet lagged and _**bone weary, Carter stepped into the room. It had been a long day. Paris was beautiful... or so he'd been told repeatedly in the last few days; he'd hardly noticed it as they tooled around in that impossibly tiny car. The ease of companionship that passed between Michel and Kem, now that? He noticed. God, he wanted to pummel that smug shit. Grim satisfaction curled his lips in a savage smile at the thought that it was _his _lap she sat in the entire trip. The satisfaction passed quickly. She wasn't going home with _him, _thoughShe was going home with...the _other guy._

"_What did you expect, Carter,"_ his thoughts taunted him,_ "that she'd just drop her whole carefully constructed life and fly back to Chicago with you?" _He was pathetic, _"I'll give it all up for you, Kem,"_ he'd said. Give what up, exactly? What did he have? A house full of un-realized promise; potential built of sand. He threw open his bag as he hit the speed-dial for his travel agent. "Hello, Sandra... Yeah, I may need to change my plans a little. No, no -everything is fine, I just may need to hang here for a little while longer..." Absentmindedly fingering the zipper tab on his suitcase, he calculated how long it would take for Kerry to contact him with threats of termination. He decided he didn't care. "Yeah... what can you do for me?" he could hear Sandra's fingernails clicking like chopsticks on the keyboard, "Yeah -yeah... I'll wait. Thanks."

**_Susan's voice echoed _**in the empty lounge, startling Abby out of fitful dozing, "Ab? Did you talk to Carter yesterday?" Susan sloshed her coffee and let out a little curse, "Damn -I just put on this scrub-top..." she stopped short at the sight of Abby's sleep-confused face, "Oh, crap -Abby, I'm sorry! I didn't know you were sleeping..."

The shift last night had been a nightmare; several lac's and contusions, more than a few broken noses, all from some brawl that broke out in a local pub... Apparently, the fight touched off over a soccer game, and sucked in the entire bar's clientele before it abruptly ended. A bunch of angry drunks all cursing and sweating and bleeding. Nightmare. And, of course, Abby was scheduled to come back in the next morning.

"That's okay... I don't know how I made it to the couch last night... But I do remember deciding not to go home" Abby stretched her arms and let out a big, comfortable yawn, "what time is it, anyway?"

"It's 7:30, and you're not on for another twenty-five minutes..." Susan eyed her suspiciously, "So go back to sleep; I'll have Amira wake you." Susan was shaping up to be just the right balance of boss; she didn't let anyone off easily, but she managed to stop short of Kerry-level dogmatism. Abby liked her style.

"No, no -I'm up. If I go back to sleep I may drop into a coma." Abby let out a little snort, "I can't believe I'm turning down an offer of a longer nap..." She stood up into another full-body stretch, "hey -any of that swill left?"

"Yeah... there's a cup -you'll have to make a fresh pot if you take it, though," Susan's eyes twinkled with mischief, "I only took a half a cup."

Abby concentrated on her cup -her hand was shaky, "Hey- did you say something about Carter?" She wasn't sure she wanted to part these particular waters, but she couldn't help herself, either. When it came to Carter, she would always be extra-sensitive.

"Oh- uh, yeah... Yeah -have you seen him?" Susan looked at her sideways, "Or, you know, talked to him... or anything in the last couple of days?"

"I ...ran into him in front of the new Carter clinic, and had a very uncomfortable conversation with him... but then... we haven't been on the best of footing lately, you know." Abby had given up all pretense with Susan where the subject of Carter was concerned; Susan saw through her anyway.

"Yeah...yeah," Susan shrugged her shoulders, "I figured I'd just give it a shot... he's, uh, he's not picking up... and I've left about a dozen messages." A frown knit her brow, "I just hoped against hope that you guys maybe started talking again... we haven't exactly been on the best of terms lately, either." Susan shot directly at her, "Tenure; I was pissed."she said.

"He hasn't returned your calls, or anything, huh?" Abby shuddered; she didn't want to take any initiative, or any kind of active role in this... She didn't know who's problem Carter was, but he wasn't hers anymore... "Well, you could talk to Luka -maybe see if he'd go over to Carter's place; check things out..."

"Right... yeah, that's a good idea." Abby thought she didn't sound convinced. Susan tossed the last swallow of coffee back, "Okay -once more into the breech..." she pushed open the lounge door, "don't fall back asleep," she said.

Abby stared after her. "I guess I'm going to Carter's house," she said, to no one.

**_It hit him _**as he was walking from the café that he'd left Chicago without really talking to Susan. She was an old friend; hell, they were almost lovers, if a certain someone hadn't already preoccupied his thoughts... He didn't like leaving it that way with Susan; they owed each other more than that. He'd call her first thing in the morning... Chicago time, that is. Damn. Travel really screwed with his already over-taxed sleeping schedule...

As he crossedthe thoroughfare, he looked around him for the first time. God; this city really was beautiful. What the hell was he doing? He hadn't been to Paris in ... how many years, now, he couldn't remember. And he'd only focused on one goal: getting Kem back. It took all his mental energy. He hadn't even looked around him. It occurred to him that he was in the romantic capitol of the world, and yet he'd come on a fool's errand to reclaim the love he'd already lost. Ironic, really. He'd been brooding around for three days... and nothing had changed. Michel wasn't going anywhere, and neither apparently was Kem. Her mother was kind... but looked at him with a sort of sad pity... A kind of look that left Carter feeling doomed.

It hit him on the fourth morning in the café over coffee. He didn't belong here. Kem did; he didn't. When he looked up at her, over the table and croissant and the dark bitter brew... he saw the recognition in her eyes. He nodded mutely... and they parted ways. He spent the rest of the morning in idle window shopping... until he saw a tiny silver rattle in a shop window that reminded him so much of the one he gave Kem... And he knew. It was time to leave.

He fingered his phone, punching in Sandra's number. "Hello! -Sandra... help me out, I gotta get out of this city... I want to come home."

**_Well, that did _**it. Clanging the chart into the rack, she tore off her stethoscope as she charged through the lounge door. Banging her locker shut, she rushed out the back door before anyone could stop her; she was already over her shift time by an hour and forty-five minutes.

She'd been distracted throughout her shift, whenever she had a scrap of downtime. She didn't want to go, and she didn't want _not_ to go. Carter's new house was foreign to her; she'd only been there once, to sober him up. She dreaded what she might find this time; Carter on a bender? Carter gone to ...Kem? Carter overdosed? None of the scenarios seemed particularly desirable.

She didn't know why...why he still held sway over her emotions. Why, when he seemed so _un_affected by her...why was she so affected by him? It didn't seem fair. He'd moved on... She'd always been able to easily detach; she never allowed herself to get attached in the first place, so detaching was always effortless.

Before she knew it, Abby reached his place. Carter's new home... Carter's new life... well almost. Unannounced, a pang pinched Abby's heart. She still felt a slight tightening in her throat when she thought of his devastating loss. Breathing in deeply, Abby forced herself to walk up to the door. She knocked, decisively. Loudly, even. No answer.

This wasn't exactly an area wherein she could get away with snooping around, peeking in the windows... There were Neighborhood Watch stickers all over the place. Still, she was on a mission... And she felt sure Susan would back her up, if she got into a sticky situation. Even if she didn't exactly _know_ Abby was here at her behest.

Abby took in her surroundings... Not a lot of cars around; she could probably go unnoticed if she just walked around the house, to the back. Hell with it -she'd take the chance. She pulled herself as straight as she could -like she was _supposed_ to be there, and walked purposefully around the house.

Except she wasn't. Not anymore. What the hell was she doing here anyway? She hadn't said more than two words to Carter in almost a year. Nothing that wasn't work related... well, except for right after he - _they - _lost the baby... And the sobering up thing at Ike's. But that was nothing; nothing more than she'd do with any other fellow addict.

_Oh, really? _Then why did it seem she was trying to convince herself?

She ran her fingers along the window ledges... looking for – what? – she didn't know exactly. Up the steps to the back porch... Back door, right there in front of her. She had a moment of indecision and then stepped up to it quickly and gave a sweep above the door jamb. Nope. No key. But then no Chicagoan worth their salty reputation would leave a key on the top frame of a doorway. She scanned the porch... looking, without any real hope of finding some ...thing. She wasn't even sure what.

When she was uncomfortably balancing on hands and knees sweeping her fingers under the slightly overgrown hedge that spilled over the porch, she heard it. The unmistakable sound of shoe scraping cement walk startled her into a sprawl, resulting in the rude connection of her head with the balustrade. Fearing the sight of uniform blue and shiny brass badge, she elected _not_ to turn around.

"Looking for something, Abby?" A voice as familiar to her as her own. Dammit. Ducking her head, Abby decided to go for the sympathy approach. "Carter. I... uh, _we_ were worried about you..." Silence. Crap. She turned around slowly, trying desperately to squelch the nasty grip of embarrassment and guilt bubbling up in her gut. She met Carter's slightly bemused gaze with a determined defiance. "Hey, look pal, there's more than a few of your colleagues who are a little put off by your Mr. High and Mighty-ness since you furnished _an entire new wing_ at the hospital..." she was really reaching here, "but if you think we are all going to bow and scrape at your-," his sudden laughter caught her off guard. "What?" she managed an impatient tone.

Carter bent slightly at the waste, clutching his side with one hand and extending another loosely in her direction. "Your... you've got..." but his laughter hid his words from her. "What? – is there, like shmootz in my hair?" His laughter subdued a bit, he managed an affirmative nod, "Yeah." he choked out finally. She resisted the urge to pull at her hair and got up instead, inclining her head toward him, "Well... don't just stand there laughing – get it out!" His laughter tapered off as he reached up tentatively and gave a few gentle pulls and topped the gesture off with a deft smooth of her hair. "There; I think I got most of it." Abruptly his hand dropped.

They both stood rooted for what seemed like an uncomfortably long time. In silence. With him just staring up at her. Deciding she couldn't stand it anymore she cleared her throat, "So..." she glanced at his back door, "you gonna invite me in, or what?" He started visibly, recovered quickly, "Oh- of...of course!" and moved toward the porch steps. He had to snug by her to get to the door, "'Scuse me," he said quickly and unlocked the door. He stood aside with a sweep of his arm, and Abby crossed into a tidy kitchen. A lovely kitchen, actually – all the latest and efficient best, topped off with a beautiful green-hued granite counter top. The place dripped money. But then, it was owned by a Carter. She walked slowly to the center island, appreciating every nook and cabinet in the efficient space. "Nice, Carter... very nice," she didn't try to mask her unvarnished appreciation for the room. He moved a little closer, "Yeah... I like to cook, and K-..." he cleared his throat, then went on, "Kem always appreciated my cooking... I thought it would be nice to have a good space in which to 'wow' her with my culinary skills," he tried for lightness, but there was an unmistakable huskiness to his voice. Out of respect, Abby didn't turn to look at him, "Yeah... well I always liked your Szechuan Beef Noodle," letting a little grin spread over her face. She heard him chuckle and chanced a look. He looked at her sideways, "Now, that's not fair – we only ever had time for take-out..." but he was smiling now, too.

They stood there for a moment, each with separate ghosts from the past haunting their thoughts.

"Listen, I-,"

"Carter, I didn't-,"

"Go ahead -,"

"No, please-,"

They stood staring at each other, and then Carter grinned, "Well... let me be a gentleman and say what I want to say first," his eyes glinted with a hint of mischief, "Listen, Abby... I've been an ass for a long time-," he waved a hand at her attempt to correct him, "no, don't bother trying to spare my feelings... I came back to Chicago, less than seven months after I walked out on you, with a pregnant girlfriend and walked right back into the hospital... not caring if you were there or not..." he looked down, avoiding her gaze, "hoping, actually, that you _were_ there..."

Abby knew... she knew then, and she knew now that he'd only done it to get at her... but they'd both done hurtful, childish things... and she had long forgiven him for anything that had caused her hurt. She wondered though, did he forgive her? "Carter... it's alright... I knew what you were doing... but, look... I was no angel in that..." how to term it?... "that whole... fiasco." She looked up at him, uncertain, "Why'd you think I hung that bag of stuff on your locker? It wasn't exactly _every_thing you left at my apartment, you know..." she watched him closely, thinking of the T-shirt she still slept in on occasion. "That bag was really meant as a very personal stab in a very public forum...if we're going to try one-upmanship on this... I think I win. Hands down."

He smiled at her, reached for her hand across the island, "Then you've forgiven me? For all the...crap?" Abby was amused at him using one of 'her' words, "Yeah, Carter... I've forgiven. A long time ago." She felt the pressure of his hand on hers... and felt the little lurch her heart gave in notice. She moved away, trying to cover the flinch, "How about I make us some coffee -," His fingers tightened on hers, "Abby... don't... don't pull away, just yet?" She looked up and was startled to see his eyes moist, red just beginning to rim his lids. Felt the familiar clench of nerves in her gut, the desire to just take over, nurture, fix it. Fix him. Rationally, she knew she couldn't... As surely as she knew that she couldn't fall into old patterns of behavior; she'd worked too hard to attain a peaceful equilibrium in her life.

"Carter..." it was as much a warning as an appeal. "Listen... I'll be here for you, you know that. But... not in the same way as... before." His face registered a gaping hurt, raw and needy, "Abby... I'm sorry...I just..." Abby slid her free hand to rest atop his, "Carter... you don't have to apologize; you've been through a lot in the last year..."she struggled; words felt so inadequate, "you're probably going to be needing a lot of support... from a_ lot_ of people...you know? I can be _one_ of those people..." His face broke into a rueful grin, "Just not _all_ the people," he finished for her. "Yeah," she breathed a sigh of relief, "don't you think that's best? I mean... with our history, it's probably best if we give each other a little breathing space..." He released her hand, breaking contact gently, "I know... I know..." But he looked like he'd been sucker-punched.

Oh, she could so easily just reach out and stroke his cheek., tell him everything was going to be alright, pull his hurt and his anger into herself... let his sorrow become hers. Dangerous, treacherous territory, for a recovering alcoholic with co-dependant tendencies. She felt compelled to explain, at least. "No... you don't know. You're sitting there telling yourself that I'm a bridge you burned...that I'm another gaping hole in your safety net..." tilting her head until she could look him in the eye, "Carter. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. But I can't let myself screw up _your_ recovery, your grieving...by trying to make it my own." Her words hovered in the still air. He looked up at her, comprehension dawning in his eyes. "You had a long climb back up, didn't you Abby?"

He sat there, holding her eyes with his, refusing to let her look away. Her mouth said the words before her brain could engage, "Yes. I'd lost everyone that meant anything to me; _I _was lost... and I couldn't figure out what I'd done that was so bad that everyone..." she looked down at their clasped hands, "that everyone just...left. I only ever tried to... help. I realized too late... that it wasn't the right kind of help." Tears unshed knotted a painful lump in her throat, "But this isn't about me, now. I've beat my demons into submission, Carter. It feels good to hear you acknowledge my hurt, but that wasn't essential... and I don't want you to bring it up to me again," she took an unsteady breath, "for a long, long time." She reached up, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "When you are ready...when you've healed," she gave him a wicked grin, "then I'll beat the hell out of you for being such a jerk."

**_Carter remained_** on the porch long after he'd watched Abby walk away and out of his view. There had been so much unresolved hurt and anger over her that he'd walled up inside of him, refused to deal with. It felt good to not only hear that she was sorry...but that _he_ was sorry, too. He'd spent so much time thinking of all the ways that _she_ had failed him... he'd never given much thought to how he could have failed her. He'd tried hard, too. Just as she said she had. And, as she said about herself, he realized that his help was the wrong kind of help, too. Their conversation was full of revelations for him, and he'd need a while to figure them all out; how they'd help him deal with the past, and how they'd help shape his future. He was amazed again at how easy it was to talk to her; always had been. How they just seemed to 'get' each other, without strenuous effort. The easy shorthand between them ran smooth even now though the pipes might be a little rusty from disrepair.

It had been that way... almost from the very first conversation, so long ago on the hospital roof, a time that seemed a part of another dimension, now. The contrast of that easy conversation, with the knife plunging into his back... two events joined forever in his mind by the simple fact that they occurred on the same day. Two events which had taken on new meaning in his life. If he was honest with himself – and he promised himself he would be, from now on – he had to admit that just as Sobriki plunged that knife into his back, cutting away everything he was before and leaving him, for a time, in shreds... Abby's sharp tongue, fierce loyalty and fragile independence had plunged beneath his defenses, dragged him through the first steps of his recovery and propelled him through his first and most devastating love. It was as simple as this: if he hadn't gone through his near death experience, the shame of drug addiction, and the loss of Abby... he'd never have been prepared for... for losing his baby... for losing Kem.

So much sorrow. So much unbelievable pain. But, he'd survived. And that was something... wasn't it? He didn't know what the future would hold; didn't even want to hazard a guess. He only wanted time to heal... and only needed familiarity to help him get there. He'd take it one step at a time, ease slowly back into life at the hospital.

And Abby would be right there.

_Finis_

_AN: Well... Three years and two months and I'm done. I don't watch ER anymore, lost interest a couple of years ago. I started this story waaaay back when I still had hope that Carter was going to come back and he and Abby would slowly rebuild their relationship on more solid ground. But...that was not to be. I'm cool – lots of my friends are very satisfied with the ER that is now and that's good. Although I still had a slight yen for "my" ending, this one was a compromise. It's not the ring and the flower girl and the wedding and bliss. But it does end with a certain amount of hope._

_And that's the best gift that we all have, my friends. _

_Thank you to everyone who read this story, thank you to everyone who reviewed. I've appreciated your comments, and really did enjoy this journey._


End file.
